I wasn’t looking forward to Mother’s Day since no children were going to honor me and my own mother is long gone. My plan was to just suck it up and go out for an omelette. I forgot to factor in my newsletters.
I get so many newsletters even though I’m always cancelling them. The one’s I really should cancel are the suicide alliance newsletter and the one for parents of adult children who hate them. They mean well and at times they have been mildly comforting. They aren’t as bad as the one from Compassionate Friends, which has a lot of butterflies.
So they each sent out a special thing about mother’s day, offering platitudes that make everything so much worse.
The suicide one offered poems from mothers, sharing their Journeys, along the lines of
I remember my shock and how numb I felt
and how I cried
and sobbed
and how I couldn’t get out of bed and
wanted to die
and how I sat in his room
and sobbed some more….
This isn’t verbatim, the poems were actually more upsetting and alarming. Not a Journey I wish to take since my own Journey is quite enough even though I’m not on one.
The Adult Kids Who Hate You newsletter had some advice on how to answer questions from nosy friends about what you’re doing on Mother’s Day. Stuff like, “My daughter is very independent so she’s off doing her thing.”
Haha, jesus christ, how about a nice “Fuck you, mind your own business”?
Tips on how to handle shame and guilt must be good for somebody and there must be market for them. Me, I’m not ashamed or guilty. My kids can go read about shame and guilt since they’re the ones who left the world or Can’t Stand Mommy.
Instead of the omelette, I cooked a chicken for my mother-in-law and brought it over to her. I make a damn good chicken, as many people already know, and she cleaned her plate. Her own daughter had elected to celebrate mothers day by going to Las Vegas and not even calling.
Mothers and children of mothers, it’s a hard road being a human being even if you aren’t in Yemen eating dirt. The only thing to do is cancel your newsletters and carry on.
photo – Denis Dailleux, Mother and Son 2009
I love you mommy…
You know I somehow stumbled on your blog a while ago and laughed at commentary about bizarre clothes and gruesome politics. I don’t laugh when You talk about your son. My brother would have been 69 years old on May 12th if he hadn’t taken his own life. It’s the grief that keeps on giving. I wish I could give you some giant pillow of comfort that you could sink into and all cares and woe would evaporate at least for a little while. Basically I just hope you keep on keeping on. Your grief in some ways is my grief and so many others grief. Is it useful to be in this kind of club? Heh. No. Also, different to lose a son. I’d like to send you some warm thoughts and a fluffy quilt and a bubble bath and a golden retriever. Maybe knowing people are hearing what you say is some sort of balm. I sure hope so. All the best to you.
well you comfort me, so Happy Mother’s Day xo
I wish was in the position where I could decide how much I want to be in my mother’s life. We live in the same city but she never contacts me, never asks me how I am. It’s always me calling / visiting her. She is polite and nice but distant- ends the calls quickly, says she has to work when I visit. It’s always been like this. I’m now 30 and it hurts. My dad is the same, but that’s somehow easier for me to handle.
Well, how you carry on helps the rest of us see how. Thank you.
Max Page – xoxoxo
Minnesota – Thank you for your encouragement. I’m so sorry for your loss. I think that somewhere your brother is proud of your kindness. xoxo
mary – Thank you so much! xoxo
U – She obviously has problems beyond your ability to solve or understand. I hope you can find people to give you the unconditional love you deserve. I will adopt you if you like. xoxo
Eileen – All atheist blessings to you for these words. xoxo