On Mother’s Day:

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day here in the USA. Celebrated with cards and flowers to ones mother in appreciation of all the time and effort a mother gives toward ones upbringing.

I am a mother. I have a mother. I have a step mother. This should be a good day. But it isn’t for me.

The problem I have is, I am a mother of a child who has died. (My son at the age of 25.) The only people that wish me a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ are the people that don’t know me. My family and friends skirt around it. My daughter ‘The Princess’ calls me on the phone, but on the day before or after. (She lives over five hours away in another state.) My husband ‘The Mountain Man’ just says “Your not my mother so I’m not wishing you a happy anything.” I love the man but he doesn‘t get this one. (My children, though he loves them, are not his but from my first marriage.)

On the first year after my ‘Shining Son’ died, a Mother’s Day balloon landed in the garden. I still have it. It is flat with the helium all gone. But it arrived on Mother’s Day afternoon. Floated right down out of the sky. I cried like a baby. But that was eight years ago.

Now I spend the time looking at weed flowers in the yard and remember ‘The Shining Son’ as a small child giving me a handful of them on Mother’s Day.

Not that I’m complaining. I just wish it was different. I want family and friends could see that they can’t hurt me any more then I already am hurting, by saying ‘Happy Mother’s Day.’ They can’t remind me of my dead child because, I never forget. I want them to know that I am a mother with no Mother’s Day good wishes. I am left to spend Mother’s Day all alone.

So Happy Mother’s Day all. But especially the mother’s with dead children.