This will be the fourth Mother's Day since she left us. Oh don't get me wrong, she's in a better place now and the world she left behind is no doubt grateful for her departure. But in some ways, I miss her and in some ways, I don't.
My mother was not what you would call a doting caretaker. Some of her favorite quips to us as kids were, "I'm not your mother and stop calling me that, " and " Stop running in circles or I'll nail your other foot to the floor."
But she never missed a chance to say "I Love you" and only rarely forgot her job as a Mom.
Maybe it was the command, "Take your Glasses off I am going to hit you" that showed her compassion to me and let me know she always had my best interest at heart, but then again maybe it was the wooden spoon or the flying palm across the back of my head that showed it.
Whatever it was, she showed it in her special way and while I don't miss the piss and vinegar, I do miss the smiles and hugs.
For many, this Sunday will be long walks in the park, pink carnations, and over-done eggs with cold toast in bed. For me, as most Mother's days have gone since she left, it will be memories of her last days being consumed by cancer.
Even in her last moments of weakness, she never showed an ounce of fear. Even when her body was operating in "safe mode" and the words dripped from her lips like concrete blocks, she held her head high, clenching the cigarette she was too weak to light herself.
When we realized that the cancer was coming through her back in an emergent tumor, we knew the time was short, but never once did she aspire to understanding or forgiveness. Her anger at what life had dealt her persisted even in the few moments of lucidity in the last hours of her life, angry that she had to taste the medication and be interrupted in her slumber.
Maybe it was the not knowing her father or her failed marriage. Maybe it was the estranged daughter or not knowing her only grandchild that made her so bitter. All off it combined in the last days of her life to give her terrors and fear, not of death, but of loss and love.
In truth, I don't know if she ever feared death or the great beyond, because I am not sure she ever gave up the resentment she had about this world. She regretted her loss of love and family, and never found a way around it. Her last words were anger about the grandchild who would never know her and the life she felt she wasted as a mother.
My mom was angry and my mom was sad. My mom was lonely and my mom was lost. I knew her when she used to smile and I knew her when she used to laugh. Being the child who saw her breath her last breath, I have a hard time remembering the good memories.
Her sisters couldn't be bothered at her passing and took great advantage of the death of their older sister within moments of her passing. Her daughter shed tears and wailed for all to hear that her mother was gone, but failed to mention that she saved every birthday card and present that my mother sent to her grandchild and gave them back to my Mother, unopened, for her birthday.
The ones my mother left behind were no prize, and what I have learned since makes me glad that she never knew that her father was a convicted rapist and her sister a thief. She had only a hint that her daughter was a monster and her brother was an addict while she was alive. She never knew for certain any of these things in her life and I can only hope that wherever she is now, she is at peace.
We cast her ashes in the ocean and said our goodbyes with a brevity that even my father would have appreciated. Within moments of her last breath, I closed the door on that chapter and left her dead body for others to deal with at the hospice.
I suffered with her long enough, I thought, and to this day, I wonder if I did not make the wrong choice. Nonetheless, I chose to stay with her until the last breath left her body. But there is one thing that I will carry with me this Mother's Day, that no one else in this world or the next can say. I stayed. Wherever you are right now Mom, I love you.
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