I thought it would get easier over time, knowing that my mother wouldn't be around. And most of the time, it is. I go through most days not even thinking about the fact that she's not here; that she's missing my baby learning to crawl, or my three-year-old learn to count to twenty. Most of the time, I can just live my life without thinking about the fact that my mother isn't here to witness it.
But there are certain days where I can't ignore it. Days that are circled in bright red marker in my mind: Christmas, my birthday, my daughters' birthdays.
And of course, Mother's Day.
Last year was the worst, happening just a few months after my mom died. The pain was so fresh that I couldn't really face it. I even went so far as to buy her a Mother's Day card. Ridiculous, right? Who buys a greeting card for a deceased person?
This year, I was doing better. I've come to accept the fact that my mom isn't here anymore, even though it still hurts to think about it.
And then, my three-year-old sees a photo of my mom holding her as a baby and asks, "Who's that?"
That's your Nana, baby girl. Your Nana, who would have adored having tea parties with you, and baking cookies with you, and buying you presents. Your Nana, who looked at you when you were born with such tenderness—the first grandchild, the special one.
Your Nana, my mother, who I miss so very much. Who, with your short time together, you've already forgotten.
Now I'm a mother to two beautiful girls, so Mother's Day is my holiday too. I can't take my mom out for lunch or buy her a gift, but I will cherish the clay hand print that my eldest made for me at daycare.
And I will get to hear her say, "I love you, Mommy."
I only wish I had one more chance to say the same thing.