Mother's Day Without You

You were the first thing I thought about today.  I knew it would be a day, just like every other, with you in heaven and me down here, missing you.

I often wish there were special exceptions in the journey of grief.  That for some of the big milestones, we’d get time, even a few minutes, with the one we’re missing.  Just to make it a bit easier, just to hear their sounds, feel their presence, and remember them a bit more clearly until the next milestone.

I wish for that so much today.  To see you, to look into your perfect eyes, to hold and rock you, just how you like it, and sing all your favourite songs…and maybe tickle you a bit so I could hear your laugh again.  Seeing you leave would be so hard but the time with you would spur me on until the next.

Loving you still is the most natural thing but missing you is the most painful…and they often come together.  How can I not miss you when I remember all the things I love about you?

Last year, Mother’s Day was, in so many ways, just like any other day.  Your meds still needed to be given, your feeds still needed to be on time, you needed comfort and cuddles, diaper changes and many show changes.  We knew what needed to be done each day but didn’t know the sacredness of them. In two months, you’d be gone.

This year, Mother’s Day is so far from what I want. I hold your urn instead of holding your sweet, dystonic self.  I look at your footprints on paper instead of tickling your feet. I go through photos and videos of you instead of making more memories. No more matching sister outfits, no more Georgie kisses.

I didn’t know Mother’s Day could hurt so much.  One child here that just wants to celebrate and “do whatever you want all day, Mom” and another child in Heaven living her absolute best life - the pain and confliction of those two realities is indescribable.  The sweet girl that needed me the most, doesn’t need me at all now. I didn’t expect that part to ache so much.  And her sunshine sister/daughter that remains here just wants to live and laugh and go on every adventure.

This Mother’s Day will be impossibly hard AND I will still look for the good because Georgie taught me that lesson best.  I will miss George and I will cuddle Camilla.  I will cry for George and I will laugh with Millie. I will look through pictures of Georgia and take more with Camilla.

I hope my grieving mama friends are able to add some “ands” to this difficult day.  Missing their beautiful children AND feel loved and appreciated. Knowing those two things can be true at the same time is hard but life-giving.