Mothers Day

This is my fifth Mothers Day without my Mum. She passed away when I was teaching in Walt Disney World. Another year, another Disney park, definitely a whole other Me. But no Mum. You expect Mum to leave but you are not prepared enough: my first response was to Google it as I was not sure about the appropriate response and very disoriented from it. I never got the memo, I just got angry. Everything has been different since then. I am more desolate, more sullen, more cynical and, perhaps best, inifinitely more compassionate. I am sick of hearing people tell me they are sorry (why should they be if they are not responsible?), they know how it feels (you could not unless you have actually been there and yet everyone's experience is truly unique) and that time wounds all heels (some extend from the heel to the heart and are insuperable). It will be five solid years this June and no healing has shown any signs of heading my way. Not even a preview. Adverts stuck between acid free newspaper sheets shill me not to forget her on her special day. Last night, a homeless man urged commuters on the BART to remember their mothers and thank them. Cosmetic samples and jewelry stores urge me to buy feminine items for my special Mum. I am glad there are all these reminders in abundance because otherwise I would have forgotten her a long time ago. Not so much. She exists in every memory, every action, every new venture I undertake. Then I realize the folly of my ways - she is gone, and there is much we did not do. We did not go to mainland China, as we always spoke of since my childhood. My first birthday without her card arriving before the others was difficult to take. For most of us, home is Mum. At the end of the stressed day, you came home and however bad the day had been, Mum would be there and make it right. Perhaps we take things for granted and know not the value of people until the people cease to exist. An immense folly considering this is the one person who literally loves you from your first breath until death. Hers. It is a morose day because I know that everyone I know is Sunday brunching with their Mum. I will have to hear about it tomorrow. I will nod politely. And everyone will think my allergies are acting up.

Happy Mothers Day.