333

I look at the clock, it is 4:44 pm. I had just glanced over but I wasn’t surprised. The same number three times in a row, for those who believe in messages from beyond, is fascinating and very meaningful.  Earlier, yesterday and the day before I saw 333 and 3:33 without trying to time it in any way. I always smile and whisper “Thank you, Dad” through my fingers.” I saw 2:22 the day before yesterday. Often in the middle of the night I wake up and I see 3:33am. I smile, roll over and go back to sleep.

I consider this a gift. My dad knew that I had visited the cemetery, of course, that I had cleaned off the grave site from a really long, cold winter.

Friday the 13th (Photo credit: *~Dawn~*)

I found the special red see through glass stone that I gave my dad many years ago that resurfaced in the grass and dirt and spelled “PERSEVERANCE.” I understood. I cleaned it off and put it back in place.

My dad knows our troubles, our physical, emotional and practical problems and while he can’t change those things because I knew if he could, he most certainly would help us. But, he is there for me, 333, always there for me, supporting me now giving me his new version of a pep-talk “Persevere”contained in one word.

For the first time in twelve years I felt his spiritual presence in a physical way, I felt like he was hugging me; I felt like I was being hugged. A great loss in my life. I would always say “I’d give my left arm to get one more hug from my dad…” and, trying not to freak out, being patient, I received the gift today with gratitude and love. I’m sure, of all people, my dad wouldn’t have been surprised that tears silently rolled down my cheeks.

I’ve given up trying to wish, pray or even think about where our lives are going. The last few years have been very tough but I’m sure down the road we will understand it. It’s just now that everything seems confusing and yes, disheartening. We’re not perfect, it would be silly to say that our attitudes are always positive because they are not.

Sometimes my husband and I fight but then we always make-up. There’s a lot of stress in uncertainty, especially when no money is coming in and you have two kids in college. We try to plan, maybe we will move, or rent but we need to stick it out here a little while longer. The message of what we need to do is definitely not clear yet and so we wait. We will definitely know when it’s time.

Angel of Light (Photo credit: Jody McNary Photography)

Today is Friday the 13th, and Mercury is in Retrograde which I hear is not supposed to be very good at all. But, I like to remember that my father was born on the 13th and Friday the 13th was his most favorite day. So now, I’m not scared of Friday the 13th anymore, though I used to be when I was a child. It’s a day, like every other, in a place and time.

What you give to the world and what you get is entirely up to you. As I’ve learned, you just need to be patient. I know, it’s not easy at all.

Even My Tears Cry Tears

 

Father’s Day, 2014 Edition

 

HAPPY FATHERS DAY (Photo credit: Insight Imaging: John A Ryan Photography)

Father’s Day is coming, it’s just around the corner. I dread that holiday more than I now dread Christmas, the holiday that my dad and I used to love the most.

My dad has been dead twelve years now, one would think, I would have gotten used to the concept. But, no. I am never  ready for this day. I find myself, each year, being caught unaware with different triggers.

I think there is something very wrong with me. I mean it.

Am I stupid? Very possibly.

I have no dad.

My dad is dead.

 

 

 

Description unavailable (Photo credit: wakingphotolife:)

 

English: Portrait of 1-year-old baby girl (Photo credit: Wikipedia)My father was the nurturer in the family, the closest in temperament to me, we understood each other with a glance or a smile; similar to the relationship I have with my son. The same type of thinking, parallel ways of feeling.

 

It seems to be Father’s Day again, some Holidays move around the Earth at a quicker pace, don’t you think? Birthdays, when you are older, seem to flash by in a second or two.

Am I stupid? Very possibly so. Can I not learn to get used to it?

Evidently, not.

 

Even writing these words down bring unwanted tears to my tired, blood-shot, green eyes.  I furiously blink away threatening tears.

Twelve years, it’s not like it happened yesterday but sometimes it feels like that, raw like a knife wound.

If it hasn’t gone away by now I don’t think there’s a chance it will ever go away.

So, naturally, when I was in the store a few weeks ago, once again, I headed straight for the Father’s Day section of cards. But this time, I did not actually look through the cards. I noticed where I was and quickly turned around after admonishing myself, without skipping a beat. To me, that’s progress. I didn’t stand in the aisle sobbing like I have done in years past.

There are just some things you can’t get used to, this is one of them.

For all of you who still have your Dads, please cherish them. For the dad of my children, I honor and cherish you and for my friend Alice’s father, JB, who tries to make me feel included even when I am not, I say, thank you.

Happy Father’s Day to the father figure that you do have, be it a friend, a neighbor, an uncle or a cousin, a brother…

And, if you don’t have a father figure in your life, you are even MORE special. Because you have a mom who is mother and father to YOU.  Kiss your Mom, once on each cheek because she makes EVERYTHING worthwhile. I congratulate HER.

forget-me-not – wild form (Photo credit: joysaphine)

 

 

 

 

*I Rescued 3 Newborn Bunnies, Make That 4.

I’M A BUNNY SAVER

Illustration of Peter Rabbit from The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My dog was sniffing something in the grass on a lovely day as my neighbors and I sat on our front yard. Dogs sniff, that’s not unusual but my dog was acting weirdly. My neighbor and I noticed that she was putting her paw in different places because she saw it move or sensed something happening. But, us grown-ups, had no idea what was going on. My neighbor and I watched in wonder about what was happening and sure enough, a tiny bunny emerged from the grass and it was struggling.I helped it out and then stuck my hand in the hole and rescued the other ones that were still buried inside. there were three more but their mom had left them alone. I took three baby bunnies and rescued them and put them in a shoebox with some grass and cotton to protect them.

Bunny Rehabber (Hoppity) (Photo credit: audreyjm529)

Little Ava, a sweet little girl from next door, was with us and her mom and I didn’t want her to see the poor dead bunny that didn’t make it. I quickly I made a makeshift grave for this poor bunny and buried her out of sight. I admit, I even said a few words. I can’t help it I’m a completely mushy person.

I had no idea who to call, it’s not like there is an emergency line for 1-800-NEWBORN BUNNY so I did the next best thing and called Stephanie at my vet’s office. To me, Stephanie, knows everything about animals, a true animal lover she goes to different places around the world to rescue animals.

Stephanie told me to bring the baby bunnies in as soon as I could so the bunnies and I  drove down the hill to the vet’s office. Stephanie took them away, nursed them all back to health and they grew up to be big and strong. Now they are all living together, the triplets, on a lovely farm in a forest, happy to be alive and together. Okay, I made the last part up but I do need to think of them that way.

Shortly after that, my dad passed away and I was so very sad. My father and I were so close to each other and I was incredibly sad. In April, trying to distract me, my husband two kids and I went on a family vacation to Arizona.

We were lying on beach chairs when my children started screaming about something in the pool. We didn’t know what it was, an insect, a snake we had no idea.

Fritz (Photo credit: Raoul Pop)

It was a baby bunny that had mistakenly fallen into the water. Without thinking I dove in, scooped up the baby bunny in my hands and brought him over to where my kids were sitting. He was alive, we dried him softly with a towel,  gave him some of nature’s food and we placed him back in the woods to find his family.

We called him mitzvah, it means A Good Deed

At the airport I bought the three of us each a small stuffed bunny to remind us of the moment when I saved another bunny, Life continues. Even when sad things happen, we must and we do, go on. With time, grace and loved ones, open wounds heal. It just takes time .Sometimes,  a very long time. You will get stronger every day. I promise you.

*Dedicated to the memory of my father, I miss you every day and night. Let me be the first one to wish you a Happy Father’s Day in Heaven. You are always in my heart. Thank you for your signs of love. 8

 

Dear Dad. Sigh. I Have No Dad. (Father’s Day 2013)

Clouds (Photo credit: Moyan_Brenn)

Dear Dad,

I’m searching for you in the clouds as we drive along the highway, the sun-bright, the sky blue, the clouds bulbous but I don’t see a clue or a symbol or a sign. It’s hard to be without a father when father’s day is rapidly approaching, I’ve written about this for eleven years now. Do you know what? It doesn’t get easier and I thought for sure it would. All I find in the clouds are a wispy bouquet of flowers, like an all white wedding bouquet and it reminds me to be thankful that you were at my wedding. I need to look at things that way now.

I know, Mom would say “I am torturing myself for no reason” but I do need to put my feelings down on paper otherwise I just explode with sadness. It just hit me hard on the head, the other day, why I was feeling so anxious and unsettled, I had no idea why until I realized that Father’s Day was being advertised everywhere: on tv, the radio, ads, every store I walked into I was assaulted by the fact that other people had dad’s and I didn’t.

Daddy, Do you remember when you offered to pick me up from Brooklyn when mice ran across my feet and over the bed in my street level apartment?   I remember feeling so relieved, so safe, because you were always there when I needed you, you could always make things better.When I bounced my first check by accident, when I thought I had done something by mistake, you were the first one I called.

I remember that one of the first times I came to visit you and mom when I was first pregnant with your  grandson (and I had inherited your serious lack of direction,) you posed as a traffic guard with signs and all, in the middle of the street, telling me (and everyone else) where to go. I still remember my shock, surprise, amusement and  love. I will never forget that image, but I think I made up the detail that you wore an orange hard-hat.

You used to call my daughter, your granddaughter, Princepessa, and you let her cheat at games for way too long. I remember you laughing when she cheated and I  would tell you not to let her but of course you continued to do so. And, when my son slept over for the first time in your house, waking you up every hour on the hour, Mom growled and yelled but you were gentle and kind. That was your nature.

I’m watching over mom, she seems a little out of sorts, just a little down and bored, nothing serious. I had a nice lunch with her the other day and boy, she has taken over for you in the eating department! That woman can eat!!! You would be so proud. She used to eat like a bird and now, “mamma mia”, she eats a lot. While she used to complain that I was too chubby she is now complaining that I am too thin. Go figure. I can’t win. But, I know she loves me to pieces. She bought me a slice of rainbow cake for last night’s dessert, and it was yummy. I know she was trying to fatten me up.

My hubby is good to me, really, he is a great husband and father. He would do anything for me and the kids and while we are from two very different parenting styles, we’ve actually become more alike, it’s scary. We have blended together, but I guess after 24 and a half years of marriage you tend to do that.

I think about you all the time, Daddy, not just on Father’s Day but you know that, I know you do. There’s no doubt in my mind from the messages you send me. I smell the scent of your cologne, when there is no one else in the room, see the special numbers you show me, your initials…all the signs. They came much more often at the beginning and that was great, I needed that, but now I know for sure,  if I needed you,  you would be there with me. There is no doubt in my mind.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy

You may not be on this physical earth but in my heart and soul, you will always be very much alive.

Love, Me

Also see: Father’s Day Without Fathers hibernationnnow.wordpress.com 2012

In Memory of My Father

In Memory of Zach Sobieck, Clouds

Carry on Tuesday: My Favorite Things

Daffodills in St. James’, close (Photo credit: existential hero)

Don’t you know that it is human nature to be able to list the worst memories in your life more easily than it is to remember the best ones? Why is that? Why do we all remember, more clearly, things that we don’t like at all instead of all the things we do?  Maybe because sad things leave us scarred emotionally, we remember them because they wound us like a deep cut into raw flesh. Your skin is deeply cut, blood seeps out, you’ll probably have that scar for the rest of your life and it will remind you, forever, of what happened to cause that pain.

When I am feeling lonely or blue I try to think of peaceful things, the things that make me happiest, my favorite things: the ocean, dogs, collecting seashells while walking on the beach, the mass of yellow daffodils that come up once a year in the same place in my neighborhood. This year I only saw the start of the meadow of yellow flowers, when they barely started to bloom. It rained every day for a week after that, it wasn’t an auspicious start to summer.

It is harder for me to remember the happiest days than the worst days. There have been moments of magnificence in my life, with my husband, certainly the birth of my two children, but other than that, my head is cloudy. I can’t blame everything on Fibromyalgia,or Fibro-Fog as we call it. I don’t think I could have come up with this before anyway.

Perhaps tonight I’m steeped in self-pity, oh yes, now I know why. I just figured it out. The great unconscious, the biggest moment, months, years of grief: the death of my father. Father’s day is two weeks away. It gets to me every year around this time and every year I forget. How on earth could I forget that my father is dead? I know he is dead. What is wrong with me? Every year since his death, eleven years ago, I still go to the Father’s Day section for cards, or this year I picked up a new pen that I knew he would love, forgetting that there was no physical him anymore. I guess I will never stop doing that.

I will make a concerted effort to continue to think of past, happy, moments and will jot them down. The word “magnificent” sounds like an over-rated French movie. I’ll stick to happy but the point is, my memory can remember the pain first, the pleasure, second.

For all those women* who do not have a Father on Father’s Day, this is for you. I know how you feel, from my broken heart to yours. Do whatever you can to make your own life a little easier, a little happier, whatever it takes. Or honor your dad with a special memory or flowers, a drink, anything to help ease YOUR pain. Buy yourself some chocolate or ice cream or both. I feel for all of us, I really do.

*should say women and men

Father’s Day 2009 (Photo credit: Paul Allison)

Come what may (Carry on Tuesday)

Old Man Grieving – Vincent van Gogh (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Life can be very scary. In one second your entire world could change, blow up into tiny, little pieces. Destroyed. The world you once knew would become Before and After. Usually, unless this change is winning the 22 million dollar lottery, this does not usually occur in good situations. Am I right? In everyday life there are always tragedies that come unexpectedly,  probably things completely different from what you worried about and it never is good.

It’s called growing up. Realizing that sometimes there is fear hiding around the corner, which eery corner you have no idea but for a time it will be dark. You tend to forget about the dangers in life for brief periods of time when things go along swimmingly until something happens and then you realize “yes, it’s been quiet for too long.” As John Lennon used to sing “Life is what happens, when you are making other plans.” The unexpected, the things you didn’t plan for, the strong red slap stinging and leaving an imprint across your pale, white face.

Hold on to someone tight, a best friend, a spouse, a partner, a sister or a brother, anyone. Because, when bad things happen you will need someone who you trust and love, someone who loves you back. A person who will try to soothe you even though you think it may not help. Let them try, accept their offer to make you a hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows to comfort you A person that will make you lie down and force you to rest no matter if you can’t sleep, a person you can cry in front of alone or just someone to hold your hand and cover you in soft blue blankets.

Life is not easy, though we don’t realize that until we are older, but come what may, having someone, to share it with, makes it just a little easier to breathe because you have them and their support.  While your heart is still literally in pain and skipping beats eventually your own heart starts beating at a similar rhythm you had before. You are still alive. You will grieve your loss in your own way, take your  time and try to let your feelings out.  Mourn YOUR way. There are no steps to follow to make it easier for you.  My sister once told me after our father died, that I was “grieving too much.” I knew I wasn’t, I was just grieving louder, and expressing my grief differently than her. We also had a very different relationship with our dad. There is no right or wrong, no time limit, no book to follow.

Sooner or later, with time, you will see that while the pain never completely goes away, it becomes less potent, it happens less often and with less severity. You might even find that one day, you will talk about the loss of a person you loved with a smile of fondness and love. You might think that you had the opportunity, the blessing to love someone and have them in your life for so many years instead of focusing on them dying and leaving your life.

Just two weeks ago I held up a new pen that I knew my father would love for Father’s Day. I picked it up and smiled broadly with delight. I was on my way to the register when I remembered I had no father to give this to. Life will get better, with time, after loss. Truly, it will, I know that. But don’t let anyone tell you that you will never have any tough moments. I can’t lie to you, once in a great while, you will.

Carry on Tuesday – Life isn’t about what happens to you, it’s about how you handle what happens.

Cardiac ICU (Photo credit: Sam Blackman)

It was Father’s Day, our baby was nine months old and my husband and I had driven from Massachusetts to my parents’ condo in upstate New York. It was our first Father’s Day with our son and after two and a half years of infertility treatment, nothing made us happier than spending time with our boy. I felt blessed that I had finally gotten pregnant and every night I thanked God for this beautiful boy. I had been dealing with shots and blood tests and sonograms and depression every single day and night for over two years.

We had eaten brunch altogether, my sister and her husband and kids had arrived as well, my father seemed unusually quiet. I felt something was wrong; all those times my mom had complained I was “over-sensitive” I was just good at picking up vibrations. My mother looked concerned. Finally, my dad admitted he wasn’t feeling well but refused to go to the doctor. He did not fall over with stabbing pains, he felt bad, his chest hurt but his skin color was not right, it was almost gray and that upset me the most.

We had always had a special bond and he wasn’t listening to my mother or anyone else. I knew, in my heart, in my gut, that something was very wrong. He said that he would drive to the hospital and my mother agreed but there was no way that was going to happen. He refused an ambulance. Finally, I was so upset that I burst into tears and begged, I begged him to let me drive him and my mom to the Emergency Room in Danbury. I sobbed, “Daddy, do it for me” and he said okay.

When we arrived his blood , an EKG administered and a very superior and obnoxious young resident came in and in clipped tones told him, “You are a very, very sick man.” My father was in complete denial and refused to believe him. Apparently he had suffered a major heart attack and was admitted to the hospital. We stayed until we were literally thrown out of the hospital and heard an announcement that my car was just about to be towed. We drove back to their condo not knowing what to do. I remember my mother saying “you saved his life.”

Life isn’t about what happens to YOU, not always, it’s about how you handle what happens when situations arise. It was very late, Sunday night. My husband had to go back to work in Massachusetts, my son was nine months old and we had never been separated. There was no offer from my sister and her husband and I knew my mother could not handle this alone. We had a family history of that. In my heart, I knew what needed to happen. It turned out that my in-laws took my son back to their house, my husband went back to our house and I stayed with my mother to help with my dad. At the time there seemed like there was no other choice. The next morning we found out that he had 90 percent blockage in five arteries. He was indeed, a very sick man.

They moved him to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital and in a few days he had open heart surgery. I visited with my dad and had to say good-bye before they wheeled him to surgery and it’s probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. I cried, I couldn’t stop myself and my father knew me too well, a tear slid down his cheek as well. My dad and I are so alike. My mom and I waited the entire day in the hospital, over six or seven hours, pacing the halls, waiting for his doctor to tell us the news. I couldn’t eat a bite of food all day. Seven hours later the surgeon came out and the news was great, he had gotten through the surgery and we could see him the next day. Imagine my shock, when the next day in ICU he was sitting up, shaved and wearing his glasses!

I never thought I could leave my son, my beloved first-born but sometimes, deep inside you, you know the right thing to do. I have never been sorry that I made that decision. My father lived through the operation and I remember he came home on July 4th, Independence Day.

That night I drove home in the dark, yelled “Hi “to my dear husband, dashed up the stairs and took my sleeping baby, now home, in my arms. I stood there, rocking him back and forth for a very long time.

Women experience different symptoms from men: check out this wonderful website: http://www.myheartsisters.org by Carolyn Thomas

What I Learned From My Daughter’s Graduation (Plus Love Does Not Die)

Dad and Angel (Photo credit: nualabugeye)

“Live life simply. Be kind. Do what you love, passionately. Make mistakes, fail and start again.” At my daughter’s high school graduation yesterday, we heard quotes from Steve Jobs and Dr. Suess, no one mentioned getting an MBA or Harvard Law; it felt like the world was undergoing a much-needed change and this was the generation that was going to do it. I felt like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were humming “Teach Your Children” in the background and I felt proud.

Class of 2012, you gave renewed hope to all of us aging baby boomers who sat and listened with smiles on our wrinkled faces and aching feet. Yes, I have bunions and hammer toes and I did take my sandals off to walk in the grass for a few minutes but then I realized my daughter would never forgive me if she saw me or G-d forbid, heard about it through a friend, so I ran back to put those stylish pink flower flip-flops back on.

Graduation was a lovely distraction and a glaring omission. It was held on Father’s Day and my dad passed away almost ten years ago. My mom was there and my in-laws but not MY dad. I believe in angels and signs and that the dead communicate with those of us left here on earth. Love does not die when someone leaves the earth, I know that for sure.

Right in front of me stood a man, ducking to get through, that looked so much like my dad had looked, wearing the exact shirt my dad used to wear, that I gasped and caught my breath. “I thought that was Dad” I squeaked to my no-nonsense mother who refused to even listen to my “angel moment.” I knew, I knew in my heart that was my dad’s sign, he has always been present for ALL important celebrations. In my heart I knew that while it may have not been him in the flesh, it was his angel, a sign for me from him. Thank you, Daddy.

I wore the dress my daughter picked out for me, the shoes, the necklace, (or as she used to pronounce it when she was little Neck-a-less”) I can still hear her young voice in my head if I try hard. When I saw her walk in before the program started, I took a photograph of her in my mind that I hope will stay there forever. Her beautiful blonde hair, straightened for the joyous occasion, hanging from under her blue cap, her blue gown flowing from the breeze on a sunny day and her bright smile and wave when she saw her grandmother and me. It was a rare glimpse into her world and it made me so happy.

After the reception I knew it was all about her and her friends. In our excitement we forgot to take pictures as a family, how can that be? We’re human and we got caught up in time and it simply slipped our minds. That’s what memories are for, photographs that stay in our heart.

You are starting a new journey, my beautiful, grown-up girl. You are fearless  and strong, independent and wise. There is no doubt in my mind that if you want it badly enough, you can change the world. Keep the faith; I know you will do great things for this world. I know it in my heart.

An Empty Chair: Father’s Day and Graduation, 2012

English: Chair (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tomorrow is Father’s Day, it’s also the day that my daughter, my baby, graduates from high school. My father, her grandfather will not be sitting near me, holding my hand, smelling of after shave cologne. His arm won’t be around my mother’s arm, excited to see their granddaughter walk across the stage, beaming, to get her diploma. He died almost died ten years ago, not seeing any of his four grandchildren graduate.

He will be with me, inside, a huge hole in my  heavy heart and in the tears that I will most assuredly shed. I will wipe them up with a “Vienna hanky” the soft, cotton handkerchiefs that my father always had, that my sister and my mother and I shared upon his death. They are thin now, like transparent paper but some have his initials on them and they are very important to us.

My daughter’s graduation should be a joyous occasion but it too brings mixed emotions, as most everything does. An “empty nest” a sign of us aging, her new life just beginning. I try to be as festive as possible for my husband, father of our two children but he is not that caught up with the Father’s Day holiday as much as I am and frankly he has lower expectations. I don’t blame him at all. Mother’s and Father’s Day were adorable when the children were young but at almost 18 and almost 20, something is lacking, like true sentiment. The kids go through the motion with plenty of reminders but that’s about it and that’s all we can expect at this time in their lives. Hopefully, if they have children of their own one day, they may appreciate us more; they will be able to relate.

I am looking forward to tomorrow with a mixture of excitement and dread; I will try to hide the dread as best I can. My daughter and my “second daughter,” our friend Christina, will be graduating from high school and going off to college in August. I have watched these two special girls grow up. Christina and her family have lived across the street from us since the girls were about three or four years old. They played together every day; they went through the monkey phase together, the gymnastic phase, horses phase and plenty of others together. While they both have other friends, I think their friendship will last in the future.

Christina reminds me of a young me, she is innocent and kind and wears her heart openly. I know what she is thinking and feeling by just looking at her face or hearing her voice. I want to protect her and prepare her for life but of course  I know I can’t do either of those things. My own daughter is more street smart, independent and fearless. She hides her feelings, she is very private, harder to read and fiercely independent.  Tomorrow, when their names are called to go up on stage and receive their diplomas, I will clap and scream, for both of these beautiful, strong and smart young women.

Congratulations to Jillian and to Christina!

Not Everyone Is Happy On Mother’s Day

Yellow tulips Deutsch: Gelbe Tulpen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mother’s Day, like Father’s Day is not necessarily a happy holiday. Either holiday is miserable and sad for MANY people. My dad passed away nine years ago and I still head to the card section in June every single year. I miss him, it’s hard not to have a living or nice parent or a child on either of these holidays and people are often insensitive. So when I say Happy Mother’s Day, I include pet owners, aunts and uncles and women who love others.

For my Mother’s Day my daughter gave me a bunch of yellow tulips, a very sweet card and the stomach flu. I know she didn’t give me the flu on purpose but yesterday as I kept running for paper towels and bringing her buckets I figured I had a good shot at getting something. So far, my husband is safe. Our son is still in college and will be back this week, he sent a very loving card.

I took my mother to brunch this morning even though I felt horrible and could barely eat a bite. It’s not in me to cancel and I wasn’t feeling that bad in the morning. Mothers know, of course, and she asked me what was wrong, I just wasn’t hungry as I excused myself to the bathroom a couple of times. I didn’t want my mother to be alone on Mother’s day and the setting we had picked was beautiful. The food? So-so. The scrambled eggs were stone cold, (I admit it, I complained) and there were various breads, muffins, slices of turkey, pasta salad, fruit and chocolate and vanilla cake. I could eat none of it.

I dragged myself home in my car, not wasting time to get gas, which I sorely needed, headed quickly for the highway. I longed to put on my soft green v-neck  tee-shirt and crawl into bed. I e-mailed my husband to cancel the reservations (that I had made) at a local restaurant for my own Mother’s Day celebration. The truth of the matter was I felt so sick I didn’t want to go, my son was not yet home from college and there was no reason to force ourselves to go out because of the name of a day.

I’ve been in bed all day, my dinner consisted of an American cheese sandwich and a can of Diet Vanilla Coke. Mother’s Day can wait until I feel better and together. That’s the thing about Mother’s Day, it is a commercial holiday that I buy into every year for my mom because I want to acknowledge her, she deserves it and I don’t know how many more years we will have together.

Apparently, after I left, she was home alone when a mutual friend called her and she was sobbing and feeling “very sorry for herself.” You can’t make people happy all the time, no matter what; Mom missed my dad, she felt very alone and she is getting older. She made a remark about “how many more years would she still be my mother?” which concerned me but it’s natural too; she’s a young 85. For that reason alone, I wanted to be with her today.

I can’t solve all her problems, like she can’t solve all of mine. I could just attempt to make her morning a bit nicer, a little less lonely, even when I wanted to stay in bed. I’m saying good-night to Mother’s Day by sitting on the couch with my hubby, sipping on flat Coke with crushed ice and munching quite happily on ginger snaps watching the Survivor Finale.