Getting My Toes Wet
Last summer, before Mom moved back to Indiana, she created five gift bags, one for each child, filled with our old school papers, newspaper clippings and letters she had saved. Last week I glanced through my bag and found a letter I wrote her shortly after Dad died. In the letter, I quoted her as saying, "I feel like I'm just getting my toes wet in an ocean of grief." On this Mother's Day, despite the efforts of my husband and sons, more than my toes got wet. The waves were crashing over my head.
I became a mother when I was 45 years old so I spent many Mother's Days grieving because I was not a mother. For almost ten years, I celebrated the day as a mother and as a daughter. With time, I suspect I can celebrate it again because I had a mother worthy of celebrating, but the loss is too new this year.