In preparation for Mother's Day

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while. Even in social isolation it seems there hasn’t been enough time to just do it (not sponsored by Nike). Truth is, trying to navigate the current pandemic along with adjusting to the new normal (on top of all my emotions) has taken precedent over my relationship with staying connected to my dead momma, along with the inevitable grief that follows. But as per usual, grief can only be avoided and pushed away for so long—queue Mother’s Day. 

By mid-April the promos and call outs for Mother’s Day were rampant. My inbox filled with 'goodies for your mom,’ or instagram’s snide targeted ads preaching, ‘All things mom!’ I thought I had at least another few weeks before the inevitable bombardment-of-reminders-about-my-mom’s-absence would occur. Add social isolation and distancing into the mix and we have a recipe for loneliness and sorrow (not nearly as delicious as the banana muffins, focaccia bread and cookies I had made earlier). 

All jokes aside, after a pretty rough in-my-feelings day, I could hear my therapist’s voice telling me to write it out—so I did. It started with a tearful yearning for my mom, wallowing in that painful void, filling my notebook with how hard life feels without her (pandemic or not). I just want to be hugged and held by her one more time, to feel the comfort of her hands on my back, to be able to have the mother’s day we always used to have.

For as long as I could remember we followed a very strict Mother’s day tradition. A late breakfast in bed or brunch at the kitchen table, so she could sleep in without the disruption of my dad, sister or I. My dad would be up early getting fresh tulips and ingredients to make gourmet omelettes. My sister and I’s responsibility was to set the table (using the nice cutlery and table cloth) and make homemade menus and name cards. We’d clean up as much as we could and wait for her excitedly to come down the stairs. Now thinking about it, sometimes I think she’d take her time just so we would clean more. In true mom fashion, Jack Johnson was usually the music of choice. We always made multi-page cards expressing the ’50 reasons why we love you’ and one year, we even made a shirt with our faces plastered across the front. We’d cheers orange juice in champagne flutes and as we got older the juice naturally turned to mimosas. After an easy Sunday morning/afternoon we’d clean up, do our post-clean up kitchen dance, and then go for a walk. Those were the mom filled mother’s days.

I think like many last times, I didn’t know the last mother’s day we all had together would be the year before she died. In 2015, I was away in Europe, backpacking through seven different countries, on the last Mother’s day she was here. We facetimed during my night and their morning, my mom, dad, and sister all sitting at the table with the nice place settings set, bouquet of fresh tulips, mimosas in hand. This was all before shit really hit the fan later that July. I remember wishing I could be there in that moment, but also realized I was out living the dream I had imagined since being a young girl. Little did I know that when I came back from my trip in June, life as I knew it would be completely flipped on it’s head.

Mother’s day sans mother, has of course been different. No more late brunches, nice table settings, or homemade cards celebrating how much we love her. Instead, for the past four years, the three amigos have skipped town to make new memories and be together on a day that is always a tough reminder. We’ve road tripped to Tofino, had bonfires at the beach, star gazed in hot tubs, attempted to surf, explored caves. We’ve escaped to Whistler, pampered ourselves at the spa, meandered on kayaks through the river of golden dreams (one of mom’s favourite things and what inspired my dad to buy 3 kayaks after). And of course through all the motherless mother’s days, we have eaten well (shout out Wolf in the Fog). Mother’s day with my two other nuggets has made the day less awful, actually into something I will always have fond memories of and look forward to. 

This mother’s day, I don’t really know what it’ll look like. The current situation has meant I haven’t been able to hug my dad and sister in over 46 days (but whose counting). We’ve seen each other from a distance a couple times but more than ever I want to be together. We won’t be able to go on any trip so we’re kinda stuck facing Mother’s day at home for the first time in five years since she’s been gone. Maybe we’ll resurrect our old mother’s day traditions..who knows?

Sending love to all those who are experiencing a motherless mother’s day—those who have lost a mom, those mom’s who have lost a child, those who have troubled relationships with their moms, and those who won’t be able to be with their mom’s this year.