Even though I now have babies who look to celebrate me on Mother's Day, I keep looking around for the one who brought me into this world. And she's not here. And it sucks.
Some days I'm allowed to feel this way, and Mother's Day is one of them.
But then those little eager smiles on the babes' faces provide hope for me to make it through another Mother's Day; after all, they made me a Mom.
Still, I can't help but get a tug of anger when the Mother's Day cards invade the Hallmark aisle. Or when "Mother's Day Brunch" banners pervade every restaurant window in town. Or when my friends and their moms go out for a Mother's Day pedicure. Just. Can't. Help. It.
But eventually I will get over it; I always do.
My Ma wasn't fond of Mother's Day ever since my sister crossed the rainbow bridge. Who could blame her? Then, five years later, when she lost her own Mom, she REALLY wasn't a fan. But hey, I was still there... and Dad wanted to honor the mother of his children; he was still there. We did the best each year to make a sour day a little more sweet than bitter.
So, in that spirit, I will carry on the tradition we have established since my first Mother's Day. In 2012, while pregnant with Jimmy, we all celebrated by taking Dad to drive a NASCAR. What a thrill! Little did we know that would be Ma's last Mother's Day on earth. Having known that, I don't know if I would change a thing. We laughed. We smiled. We ate. I guess, truly, the day was pretty symbolic about what the future would bring.
In the years since, instead of Dad driving circles around the NASCAR track in Joliet, we have established a ritual that I lovingly refer to as the "Cemetery Circle Tour"... Dad dislikes this expression, by the way, but it is in essence the nature of the day.
We take flowers to the cemetery in the city where we pay our respects to my Grandparents. We make sure we have enough flower arrangements for every family member in the two rows to have. It brightens up some of the oldest of headstones. Even the random, unrelated fellow who happens to fall in line with our family gets an arrangement. I don't like asymmetry.
Then comes my favorite part.
We picnic. No, not in the cemetery. But at Gene & Judes.
Yep, we load Jimmy (and added to the festivities for the first time last year, Maddy) into the back of the car and we picnic. We eat hotdog after hotdog until our bellies ache.
And it's my day, so calories don't count.
Once we're thoroughly stuffed, we load up and head on to Des Plaines, to visit the Hackett family sites. It's important to me to make sure my children aren't afraid of death and that those who have gone before us are a part of who we are, forever. With this in mind, I laminate and affix a picture of all 8 Hackett grandkids to the flowers for Papa and Gramma Hackett. They are just as much of a part of who the babies are as the rest of us here, living, raising them.
Quietly, we take the final leg of our tour to visit Ma and Deb. By far, for me, the hardest part of the journey. It kills me that my Ma came SO CLOSE to seeing her first grand baby... to know that she didn't see a doctor weeks earlier because she didn't want to worry her pregnant daughter with stress over a sick mother. She didn't say that but I just know it. Although, in her case, it probably didn't matter, anyway.
We find our way to the little quiet area around the tree where PREZEMBEL adorns the earth, set our flowers just so and relive it all.
My, does Mother's Day suck.
But then, I have to remember...
My Ma lived for me. And Deb. And Dad.
Like I live for my babies. And Jim. And Dad.
And if she taught me one thing, it's that Life comes full circle.
NASCAR track or Cemetery Circle Tour.
In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter which one.
Very well written and touching! Keep it coming!
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