Yesterday was my first Mother's Day without Mom. Ever.
I knew it wasn't going to be a piece of cake, this day. I knew it would bring out feelings and emotions. So I woke up and dove headlong into them, knowing I couldn't escape.
I got up, dressed, and went to the place Mom always took Sis and me for our birthday breakfast. I got what I always got before, only this time I took it with me. I couldn't help but stand in that line and remember all the good times we'd had there, our little family. All the times we laughed, all the silly looks we got from other patrons as we sat and ate our pastries and drank our coffee. It's no wonder the tears started up as I paid for my food.
From there I drove over to Mom's house and let myself in. I grabbed one of the quilts she had in the cedar chest and settled down on the couch to talk with her as I ate my breakfast. There was no gift for her this year, no card. I didn't give her the extra-special hug. Instead, I talked and cried myself out - something I haven't done for a while.
Time is healing this wound. Slowly, but it is healing.
I spent the rest of my time there reading and enjoying the solitude. It occurred to me that I may not have that luxury much longer. We'll be putting the house on the market soon.
We have asked a few of Mom's friends to handle the sale of her belongings. We'll help price things, but ultimately the sale will be in their hands. It's just too much for us to handle. We're meeting with them next Saturday.
There are a few more important dates to get through this year...a few firsts I don't look forward to. But God is starting to peek back in the window to show me He's still there and He cares.
And life, no matter how much you've been through, goes on.