Sunday, May 8, 2016
A Letter for a Mother- A Mother's Day post
I cried a little this morning when I woke up. I wasn't sure why I was at first. Then I realized it's Mother's Day. It's like my body and brain automatically respond to these things.
It's not that Mother's Day makes it any harder. I don't miss you any more than I missed you yesterday, last week, or 2 years ago. It's just more of an emphasis of just how much I miss you. Mother's Day is here, and I can't physically tell you how much I appreciate you.
Everywhere, people are posting pictures of their moms. I never did that when you were alive. Selfies weren't as popular. Now the only pictures that I can use are old ones from 5 years ago, because you never liked having your picture taken. You didn't think you looked good in pictures, which was ridiculous, because you were so beautiful.
People post their pictures and statuses. But I feel that me doing that wouldn't do justice. Posting statuses about how much I miss you is not going to bring you back, nor will posting pictures. No amount of likes will bring you back. And that's hard.
I'm jealous of those who get to hug their mom today and give them flowers and candies. I'm jealous of those who will sit around the dinner table with their mom. I'm jealous of those who will talk to their mom face to face, or even over the phone. Even a text to and from you would be awesome.
I wonder why you had to leave, Mom. Why you had to go so soon. I think it's because you were too lovely for this world. Or at least, that's what I choose to believe. You were too wonderful and lovely for this world, and so you were able to return early. I see those pictures and memes that say, "I'll be lucky to be half as great as my mother is." I feel like I have a lot to measure up to.
I don't get to tell you face to face how much I love you, but I feel like I feel it more. Every day that I don't see you, every day I learn something new as a new wife, every time I think about the future, I gain a little more appreciation for you that I wouldn't have had otherwise, nor what most people my age will understand. You see, because I don't see you, my heart learns a little bit more what love is. It's hope. Hope for the future, hope to be able to see you again. It's the anticipation of seeing you, Dad, and the boys again. It's understanding that love is more than Facebook posts and pictures. It's holding one close to the heart, remembering and appreciating even the little things, like your hugs and kisses and voice.
I don't get to see you today, nor will I see you for a while. In the meantime, I will hold you in my heart and love you the best I can.