So, today is the day. To my surprise, it's been relatively smooth sailing. I didn't wake up with a shroud of grey over my head. I didn't wake up not wanting to face the day. I woke up with somewhat a sense of renewal . . . a feeling that it is time to turn things around.
I went about the normal morning routine. Took the dog for a walk - we ran into a good friend with her dog. It was nice to spend some time catching up and watching the dogs run around and play. Got home, brought in the paper, made some coffee and actually interacted with my father's wife. This is a first for me - to interact with her and actually enjoy the conversation and not feel resentful that it should not be her standing there. Had some early chatting with my father then proceeded to do the crossword puzzle as I drank my coffee. It's like any other ordinary Saturday - except for the fact that my father is here and it has now been eight years since my mother's death.
It seems, in many ways, that this year is a turning point or a point of change for my father and I with respect to handling this day. My father didn't arrange a service or big gathering to honor my mother's memory. I am smiling, enjoying the day. It is as if in some non-verbal and unexplicable way, my father and I silently agreed to just let this be another ordinary day. Yes, we will go and see my mother and place a wreath of flowers at her site. And then we'll have lunch, as we do every year on the anniversary of her passing. However, it is without ceremony and formality that this will be done. We will each honor her and think of her, but then let the day pass as if it were any other ordinary day. And maybe, just maybe, that's how we need to look at it so that we may continue to put one foot in front of the other and continue moving on and letting go. Because, really, it is just another day. Neither my father nor I need to commemorate my mother's memory any differently than we would on any other day. This is just a day.
But, if this is just a day . . . it just doesn't feel that way.
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1 comment:
Your blog posts brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is letting go... don't call yourself motherless... even if she is not physically present, she is present in you. She is a part of you.. she'll always be. You carry her in you.. because you came from her. I wish you happiness in this season of gratefulness.
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