Mother's Day + 1 week, 2015

Why has it taken me an entire week to write?  This Mother's Day was so different and difficult that a week may still not be enough time for me.

I was full of anticipation for this Mother's Day.  I was expecting to be enchanted by our beautiful granddaughter--welcoming her into our loving family circle and looking forward to all the moments yet to be shared.  All of those hopes and dreams were dashed by her polycystic kidneys and her death at only five weeks of age. The tragedy of the recessive gene and the irony that our son analyzes genetic material and research still have me reeling.  Mother's Days spent with a new grandchild are a dream for the future, rather than the present.

So, we went with heavy hearts to celebrate Mother's Day with my mother.  We enjoyed visiting at the nursing home and read her the card/ gave her the new clothes we bought/ sang with her through the musical presentation and felt that Mother's Day was at least spent with devotion to a mother who truly deserves praise and admiration.  Then, it was time for us to go home.  That may seem simple, but it turned into a terrible scene.  Mom thought she was leaving with us.  She was adamant about her need to leave the nursing home and very rationally told us that she is all alone there and has no money.  She told me that I'm a terrible daughter if I leave her there.  So we tried to calm her down and sat with her.  She was not having any of it.  It became clear that the pleasant afternoon was not going to get better if we delayed our leaving.  It broke my heart to leave her while she was yelling at me.  Her Mother's Day was lovely, but ruined by the unfortunate fact that she must live where she does and that I cannot care for her at home.  The changes in our lives and in her mental state ruined a good day.

So, Mother's Day was filled with sadness.  Thankfully, Mom won't remember any of it.  I, however, remember more than I want to.  I will always feel the hole in my heart for our lost Marlowe. And, I will try desperately to recall the days when I made azalea corsages for my mother and that was all she   needed to have a great day.  I will remember the Mother's Days when our boys were small--presenting me with hand-made cards and the hugs that warm a mother's heart.  I will enjoy the phone calls from our grandsons and the grown-up sons who make my day on the second Sunday in May.  I will hope that the future Mother's Days replace the sour taste this one left with me.  I will hope that next year, Mom is happy with our visit and at peace with her present life.