Mothers Day...uugghh

I guess everyone who loses their mother never looks forward to this day. And by "not looking forward" I don't mean it has some sort of weird ambience around it. It just no longer triggers any real sense of loss. My mother has been dead for over 20 years. It's sting has definitely softened. I guess, so much so when the day comes around, the past or whatever number of years it took to get to that level (5 years? 3 years? 6 years?), I really don't have a memory of that crossover.

I think it just becomes gradual. There's nothing ceremonial about it for me anymore. Like Kwanza.

OTOH, (On The Other Hand - for those not a regular reader of anything on the w's) I do have to actively participate in it due to Lily's mother and Lily's desire to honor her mother. Of which, I completely respect and encourage. Unfortunately, with that respect and encouragement comes the obligation of "your coming withe me?" asked by Lily to me over twenty years ago and ever since.

Back then, I did not want to. I wanted her to go alone and hang out with her mother. I really wanted to be alone in my apartment. Just to dwell in the thoughts of the loss my mother.

I met Lily in July the year my mother took her own life (which was 5 months earlier in February). So, I clearly had already gone through one Mother's Day, alone but I don't recall it at all.

Our remaining family were likely still in mourning and the day was just another day. But now as I type this, a memory has popped into my mind (which is a "funny thing" as one of the top neurosurgeons in the country told me a few times. A funny thing? That's the best euphemism he could come up with when I asked some pretty simple questions about my upcoming brain surgery? A guy whose has had probably more education than you me put together. He sounded like he was kicking off a Romper Room Lesson Plan for some retarded kids).

Anyway, I'll revisit that guy in some later post as I might be seeing him for a check up in the months ahead.

Back to Lily's mom, so the tradition began. I would join Lily with HER family and celebrate this corporate smelling "holiday". I would make the drive up from my apartment to Lily's mother's home (Lily hadn't moved out, yet, but was in escrow on her condo) and paint a smile on my face and pretend everything's "happy happy joy joy" - see the brilliant Ren & Stimpy show, which remains tragically underrated but near-genius art in the form of a cartoon.

We would either go out for the typical brunch or the mom herself would make one at her home. I didn't care. And twenty+ years now gone, I still don't.

But I have to endure this uncomfortable day, yet again. Only this one is going to be the worst. I just know it.

I painfully bought her some flowers last night at Ralph's. But I purchased an even more expensive one for Lily.

She is the mother of our two dogs. And as hackneyed as it sounds, they are her children. I even bought her a card and a gift card to Wendy's (her children love the square meat). Or we at least pretend they like it more. I'd be pretty defenseless if asked to provide any evidence of it.

I presented Lily with her Mother's Day last night as I wasn't sure we'd have a quiet home today because these small wear her out to the point of nearly passing out.

Lily loved the gifts. And it was a testy eyed producing moment, which I successfully held at bay, know this was going to be the last one.

And I think that's the exact reason why I am tense about today's celebration. That will be the elephant in the room. Lily's mom has been broken by this journey. And this day will be so bitter it will overtake any sweetness, I feel.

How could it not? A dying child saying "thank you" to her still living mother? It's nature upside down.

Oh for fuck's sake. This is going to be more horrible than I thought.