Mothers Day

We miss you everyday, Mommy

There was something about that smile.

I don’t remember seeing it before, but at that moment, I was just happy to see my mom smiling. See, she had different smiles for different occasions. There was that smile mixed with pride for achievements, there was a smile for mischief, a tired smile after a day’s work, and even a smile on the phone–miles away but tinged with joy upon speaking to her children and finding out about their day. I loved every smile and looked forward to each one.

My mom was a character. Strong but jolly, playful but precise. She used to say I got my love for writing from her, and today I realize she actually meant I inherited her love for showcasing the flair and drama of everyday life. Because she loved emotions to a tee, and would reserve neither the softest giggle of glee nor the tiniest tear for herself. These were experiences the family would always get to see and experience with her. Every shared moment was a memory to be cherished, and every moment something to be happy about.

The smiles weren’t all hers, because she was a joy to us in every way. She was the best of everything: the best cook, the best confidante, the best personal shopper, the best protector. I suppose the world never runs out of bests when it comes to a mother, and for all the effort they put into making sure every day is a perfect one for all, they absolutely deserve that superlative.

That one night was one of those nights of sharing. We talked about many things. Her, me, them, us. I never thought a few hours could go so fast, yet be so full of love, of memories, of laughter, and of plans. I heard her say over and over that she believed in me and the rest of my family, and that she was always excited to see where we would end up–not that she didn’t have a few fantastic ideas of her own. But she believed in the freedom to choose paths, and whichever path was chosen, she assured she’d be at the sidelines cheering us on.

She kept her word, and even as life went on, I knew she was there.  And truly, I felt I could do anything.

What I didn’t know was that one night was our final night together. Not long after that, we received the news that she had gone ahead, only this time without pomp or fashion. This moment wasn’t shared, like all others. She closed her eyes for the last time in silence, leaving all of us with nothing more than memories. Good  memories, but memories just the same.

I often wondered why that last moment was kept to herself.  And yet when I feel the gratitude for all the other shared moments, when I remember the laughter, the tears, the endless “I love you-s”, I realize she chose the strongest memories to seal in our hearts. If at all, she wanted us to remember that we were never in lack of the assurance of love. (And what a feat that must have been for her because it wasn’t everyday we all deserved the words!) In the end I suppose all Mommy wanted us to take home was the reality that above all else it is love that shouldn’t be a luxury, it should be shared and always for free. Everything else is negotiable.

And so, thinking back, I knew there was something about that smile. Reassuring. Wistful. A mixture of both, maybe. I realize it’s a smile that all mothers wear before stepping into something bigger than themselves–maybe a change they aren’t comfortable with or a new chapter in the family’s lives they aren’t prepared for. But they step in just the same, knowing they have to go ahead, prepare, and make sure everything is wonderful before the rest of the family comes in.

And while everyone else waits, it’s joy and love that every mom wants in her family’s hearts–not sadness, and definitely not regret.

Thank you, Mommy. I love you. You were everything “wonderful” should be and more, and I think of you every single day.

If you are a mom, or are about to be, I’d like you to know that you are wonderful. You are loved. You are cherished. And most of all, you are amazing.

Happy Mothers Day

“If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been.”  ~Robert Brault