Bittersweet Mother's Day
Updated: Feb 13
Mother's Day. A bittersweet day for myself, The sweet being the four week build up to the event where we shower our Mothers with love, buy them sweet personalised gifts, a huge bunch of flowers, cook them a succulent Sunday roast and let it be known how appreciated they are.
Everywhere you turn there’s a Mother’s day advert on TV, Social Media, Mother’s day cards in the shops. Mother’s day specials in restaurants and stunning bouquets of flowers all which make my heart thud and ache.
The bitterness of the day, where seeing or hearing anything that resembles Mothering Sunday makes our hearts drop, our eyes sting and a sad feeling of not being able to fully participate in the showering of love for our Mothers as they aren’t here today to celebrate. A burning feeling of sadness emerges, and we feel suffocated from the beginning of March till the day has passed and the adverts slowly turn into advertising Easter eggs and showing cute little bunnies on our screens.
Personally, this day for me is the hardest day of the year to overcome. Somehow the anniversary of losing my Mum, I switch into auto pilot and make it through the day resembling a robot. Mother’s Day however, is the day all the emotions come to the forefront and I can’t help but feel jealous and left out that I cannot book a table at the pub and sink numerous glasses of wine and stuff ourselves with Roast Lamb and all the trimmings with my Mum.
I found myself in a card shop a couple days ago searching for a Mother’s Day card for my second mother (who I will praise soon I promise) and I caught myself just staring. Staring at all the cards I would choose if my Mum were here. Imagining all the things I would write. I was stood annoyingly in the way of all the other card shoppers going about their day in the tiny box shop thinking how unfair this whole situation is. In the end, I left the shop... cardless. It just wasn’t the right day to be buying a Mother’s Day card, as easy as it is for most. It was complete turmoil for me as it is every year and I felt guilty a short while afterwards that I couldn’t bring myself to choose a lovely card that day for my Nanna, but I just wasn’t in the fucking mood.
Sometimes I feel like I am a child who has thrown her toys out the Pram because she can’t join in the game the other little children are playing. Sometimes I feel ungrateful because I struggle to be happy for other people out there who still have the opportunity to celebrate their Mother’s. I am not a Mother myself so I can’t hide my own grief with my own celebratory day yet. Eleven Mothers Day’s later and I still feel the same stab of sheer pain, emptiness and jealousy that I did when I had to deal with the first one without her.
What I have come to realise is that the pain will never go away, the jealousy will never subside and that Mother’s Day will always be a trigger for me. A time of the year where I feel it most that I am Motherless and how much I really, really miss her and need her.
Grief comes in waves, that’s for certain and it will hit you at the most inconsiderate times. For me, it always hits me during a build up to an event which naturally my Mother should be attending. I want to write a separate post and continue the conversation of Grief and ways of dealing with it but for now I have one additional thing to say.
Mother’s Day isn’t completely all doom and gloom and as well as looking at old photos of my Mum and thinking of all the good times we shared on Sunday. I do get to celebrate someone else who is my second Mum and that is my Nanna, my diamond, my rock, my cute little angel on earth. My Nanna took me under her wing right after my Mum left us and I have been nestled in there tightly ever since. She brought me up through my teens (lucky her) and helped me through everything there was to be helped with and put in me in line when I needed to be as well. I am forever grateful for my Nanna and love her with every inch of me. To top it off she is just adorable. I call her every day to chat, vent and usually discuss what we are having for dinner that night. I wouldn’t change her for the world, she slipped naturally into that Mother Figure role when I needed it and through her own grief chose to put up with my hectic dancer’s life and drunken Saturday nights. I still cannot forgive myself for demanding pre-drinks to take place round our house whilst five loud, giggling gals took over the kitchen whilst she was trying her hardest to concentrate on Emmerdale (She still doesn’t know about the upchuck from the sambuca all over her kettle). As much as she wanted to kill me, I think I kept her young and deep down I think she was sad to see me leave.
So, this Sunday I am lucky enough to have my Nanna Pat drive up with my Auntie and Uncle to spend the day chatting, drinking tea, eating good food and doing what I love to do best on Sunday’s… Relaxing. I am certain my Mum will be with us all in spirit and of course in our minds as she always is.