Article Contributed on: 4/27/2007 2:07:22 PM
A couple of weeks ago was the third anniversary of my mother's passing, so Mother's Day ends up being a holiday that stirs up wonderful memories and at the same time wields a blade that cuts deep.
My son once asked me if I held any regrets in my heart. It seems so cliché, but the truth is I regret taking her for granted. I always thought she would be here, waiting just behind her apartment door with some fresh cookies and a half-finished crossword.
I never thought about the day when I wouldn't be able to email her for a favorite recipe or call to see if she had picked up my son from school because it was raining. I never thought there would be things I could not share with her.
This summer I will be five years cancer-free---a monumental milestone---but when I worry about a relapse (
I will forever worry about a relapse), one of the things that scares me about that possibility is that she wouldn't be here to talk to; that she won't ever again sit at the foot of my bed and tell me everything will be okay.
So many times I was dropping by to pick up my son, or to bring something to her, or to get something from her, and I hurried along, so worried about the next place I had to be. As is so often the case, I didn't think about the time when I wouldn't have the luxury of her laugh or the gift of her comforting presence.
I try to tell my son how proud she would have been to see him becoming the young man he is, and how I am sure she still watches over him. I want him to understand how precious life is and how quickly it is gone, but how can I convince him when I myself was never convinced?
Indeed it seems I am still not convinced. I trudge along as if there will be a never-ending parade of tomorrows. I procrastinate; I put off until tomorrow what I could easily do today.
But the truth is, the hourglass runs for us all. Time is short, and we should be quick to say what is in out hearts. And because it will soon be Mother's Day, I need to say this to her:
I miss you so much, Mom. The weather is turning warm and the days are so much longer and I know you would love it. I have so many things in my heart that I wish I could share with you. Sometimes I feel frozen in time because I can't admit you aren't here anymore. I envy those who still have both their parents. I think about the fact that you are in a place so far beyond the sadness of this world that I should be happy for you, but I can't help being so very, very brokenhearted just the same. When you were here I don't know if I made you feel special, but you were. You were my mother in so many ways that I couldn't begin to write them here. You never let me down. Not ever. There were times I know you felt you had so little to give me, but that was only in a material sense. Within your soul you had every good thing in the world, and I always knew it.
I will never get over losing you.