Mother's Day Memories A Gift In Themselves
Mother's Day. It's always been a holiday filled with emotions as complex as the mother/child relationship. For me this year, even more so.
I remember the first year without my Mom. Every time I passed the card section I'd think "Oh, I have to get my card in the mail soon so it arrives on time." I'd have the middle of the night thoughts of what I'd make her for Mother's Day dinner or what flowers I'd send this year. That split second of forgetting that Mom was no longer here; in some ways it was a gift, allowing me the pleasure of picturing her delight at just the right card, a lovely meal or grand bouquet. While always painful to remember that she's gone, it was simply her time.
Grief strikes again this year. My 19-year old son passed away 8 months ago. It still rocks me to my core to say that, the middle of the night thoughts torturous. Sean had complex medical needs, but his passing was unexpected. I find myself this Mother's Day feeling so very empty. When grieving for my Mom, the holiday was hard, but it felt like a more natural course of events for her to pass before I would. A child predeceasing you is not how it's supposed to be.
I'm left with memories of Sean and his brother and sister doing what kids do for Mother's Day. The cards with rainbows, glitter and spelling mistakes; the breakfast in bed that leaves the kitchen in need of a re-haul; the showering of hugs and kisses. Sean was non-verbal, so instead of hearing him say "I love you," he expressed it with his whole body. His chin would lift, his eyes light up and his whole body stretch as I unwrapped the t-shirt painted to say Mom.
I'm so fortunate to have the memories of last year's Mother's Day. It was a weekend of special moments in many ways.
Sean inspired me to develop an Adaptive Yoga Program, and we introduced this practice of yoga at the 2017 Philadelphia Conference on Developmental Disabilities. Sean was so proud to show everyone his yoga moves, use his assistive technology to advance the slides in our presentation, and see our photo up on the big screen.
From there, we flew to Memphis to visit his sister. Walking in Memphis, sneaking onto Beale Street at night (Sean used a feeding tube and didn't take anything by mouth, but I think he still thought he was hot stuff for being there underage) and smelling the BBQ.
More than anything, what I remember about the weekend was Sean's undeniable joy at seeing his sister. It's tough when siblings move away. As a parent, I know it's part of their evolution – roots, wings and all that good stuff. For Sean, while he could FaceTime with his siblings, being non-verbal was challenging; his true communication came by being in space with you. Watching him light up, reaching out for his sister – this was my Mother's Day gift.
And now there's this year. What does it mean to be a Mother when one of your children has passed? My Mom used to tell me "You're only as happy as your saddest child." How does that work now?
On my good days, I know Sean is at peace. His body no longer has to fight as he did so courageously for 19 years. His soul is flourishing. But I miss him. My goodness, how I miss him. I'll soak in the love of my other two children, but as a Mom, I know I'll worry about them this week. I don't want them to feel a burden of making Mother's Day ok for me. Ironically, I'll be out of town this weekend, off to present on Adaptive Yoga at another conference. This time it's the Yoga Service Council Conference – they say being of service helps us step out of ourselves, so perhaps the timing is perfect. It feels like a way to honor Sean as I do this work, as it allows me to hold him close in my heart.
I know it's the first year. I know I should be compassionate with myself. And yet, knowing this is the first year he'll not completely delight as I unpack his schoolbag and find the homemade planter/shirt/apron/towel with his hand-painted "Mom" – it already has me overwhelmed with sadness. So, I'll do what I do – I'll pray for the grace to navigate this new path, knowing that I'll always be a Mother of three. One of them is just with me in a different way.
Kerri Hanlon is a mother, writer and cofounder of Yoga Home. You can reach her at kerri@ouryogahome.com
