Here comes the sun. -The Beatles
Today is my first Mother’s Day without my mom.
I thought it would be hard. I was dreading this first in this year of the firsts. Today is the first Mother’s Day. In August it will be my sons’ first birthdays. In October it will be my first birthday. Later this year, we will have the first Thanksgiving and the first Christmas. All of these days I have celebrated with my mom, every year until this year. And now, moving forward, I will celebrate them without her.
Today is bittersweet in the way I think all of these big days will be bittersweet in this year of the firsts.
But even though it is the first Mother’s Day, today isn’t strikingly different than yesterday. And I don’t think it will be that different from tomorrow.
Because I miss her every day. I think of her every day. I love her every day. Just because it’s Mother’s Day it doesn’t mean I miss her more, or think of her more, or appreciate her more. Because I don’t think I could miss her or think of her or appreciate her any more today than any other day.
Today is a first, and it is a day I will miss celebrating with my mom. But today is still a day I can celebrate.
Because today, on this first Mother’s Day, I choose the sweet of the bittersweet.
I choose to celebrate her life. Even if it means I have to celebrate without her.
Today I celebrate my mom. I thank her for the road and the shelter she gave me. I thank her for her creativity and genius. I thank her for all of the ways she helped build my character and soften my heart. I thank her for her unconditional love.
I celebrate her inspiration in my own life, in my own choices, in my own perspective. I remember her fight, her long and hard and well-fought fight. I remember her courage under fire. I remember how graceful she was. I remember all of the awareness she made possible and all of the lives she touched with her story. I remember all of the good that came out of all of the bad, all because of her.
Today I celebrate her life and her love. I celebrate all of the ways she is an inspiration for me and all of the ways she will continue to be an inspiration for many.
I celebrate with my little boys, the little boys who shine with her sweet spirit. The little boys she loved so very much and who loved her back in the same pure and honest ways she loved them. I celebrate the love that will always be between them. They may not have the memories. But they will always have the love.
Today is the first Mother’s Day without my mom.
I miss her. I will miss her every day. But I will never stop celebrating her.
I will always take the sweet. Even if it means I also have to take the bitter. I will always take her love. Even if it means I also have to take her loss.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.
When Great Trees Fall
by Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
small things recoil into silence,
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
gnaws on kind words
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
dependent upon their
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.