I hate Mothers Day.

Fathers Day is bad too. Weeks of commercials and emails feeding stereotypes that dads want to golf and grill and moms want breakfast in bed and a diamond necklace but HAHA MOMS NEVER REALLY TAKE A DAY OFF SO THEY’LL EAT THE BREAKFAST AND JUST GO RIGHT TO CLEAN IT UP. If I were a mom, I wouldn’t want an awkward brunch on the busiest brunch day of the year. Not to mention I’d probably be stuck having an awkward brunch on the busiest brunch day of the year with my husband’s mother, which is even more awkward.

But it’s mostly just selfish. I’m not a mother, though I’d like to be, and I don’t have a mother anymore. Mothers Day is worse than any other reminders (birthday/anniversary/my birthday/every day of the year) because it’s in my face everywhere how happy and lucky everyone is to have such wonderful mothers. Don’t forget your mom! Oh, that won’t be a problem.

There’s also my grandmom, who died 13 years ago this month, and my other grandmother, still alive but only partially coherent. Those losses seem more logical, but still produce an ache every time a certain scent wafts through or I see a picture that reminds me of the maternal concern that’s lacking. No one to make me angry by telling me that haircut is all wrong or help me pick out curtains.

My mother died 17 years ago this summer. This summer I’ll have been alive as long without her as with her. I’m a whole person now that my mother never got to know. (Well mostly whole, because how whole can you really be without your mother?)

Sometimes I don’t even notice. And other times I still get excited to go home and tell her something or see what she thinks or I’ll say the exact thing she would have said and then I realize I can’t and sit in the car and cry and cry. It’s so strange to think she doesn’t know how I grew up. She’s never met my dog! I think about that a lot. He’s my best friend and she never met him! I think she’d really like him, even though she never had pets and never let us get a dog when i was growing up.

She was my best friend. That’s the worst part, among many bad parts.  Many of my friends have these mothers they can’t get along with. And I would never ever wish any pain on anyone, but it just doesn’t seem fair that these terrible mothers keep on trucking, inflicting emotional damage on their daughters, and my mom that I actually liked isn’t here. If we remained best friends through adolescence, I can only imagine what our relationship would be like now.

So I’ll soldier through Mothers Day like I do most other days. Alone. Alone, which is often just peachy, until you actually want people around and can’t find them either because they’re dead or you kept everyone at arm’s length to keep expectations low so they couldn’t emotionally damage you any further with abandonment.

Coming next year: surviving Mothers Day with the debilitating fear that you’ll never have a baby of your own!


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