First One is the Toughest

This is going to be my first Mother’s Day without her. Mom passed away the day before my wedding anniversary and that was roughly seven months ago. I talk to her each day. I hope she hears me, I can’t believe how much I depended on her. Her ear, her advice, her smile, her laugh and her general presence. This first one is going to hurt. The past week, as we get closer to Sunday, I have been talking to her more, dwelling on all the ways I relied on her and amazing myself at how much of friend and confidante she was to me.

Yesterday I threw out some dates that I had in the cupboard, and then I realized why I had them in the first place. I was going to make them for Mom and her husband Roz, and I started crying realizing that she never got to try my date bars. A little backstory on that; I love to bake, I always have. When I was a little girl, Mom and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen together. Whether she was cooking dinner, or helping me iron my school uniform; the kitchen was where we hung out. Well, mom made me date bars when I was young and I really loved them. They were from a box mix, but to me they were the best things ever. About two years ago, I decided I wanted to make them. So around Thanksgiving, I did. It wasn’t easy either, but they sure turned out delicious. I didn’t have time to make them when it came to be Christmas time (I always made Mom and Roz a batch of different goodies with their gift each year) so I planned to make them for her after the first of the year. Then things started happening; falls, etc. and time got away from me. I did make her coffee cake (the same one she made for my sisters each Christmas) and I know she got a kick out of that; just not the damn date bars.

Silly how things make us react in certain ways. Yesterday and today I have been on my own, husband is gone until Sunday and I am indulging in what I like, gardening, listening to music and doing some things around the house. Anyway, I have been working in the front yard and with the plants in my green house. Headphones on, listening to my favorite playlist and a song comes on, that I hadn’t heard for a very long time. I know Mom would have loved it, she loved guitar (played it until her fingers betrayed her) and the guitar in this piece was so good. So of course, I talked to her the rest of the time I was out front in the dirt, pulling weeds, crying and singing along with the music in my ears. What a sight I must have been. Sitting here thinking about it makes me laugh.

I will miss her forever. This first celebration of Mother’s is going to be difficult; however, I know I will be fine. If there is anything she taught me, it was to be strong, to put your best face forward and get on with it. I will spend some time with her in my prayers tomorrow and just hope and pray that she hears me.

Here is a picture of Mom, last Mother’s Day with my husband.

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