The First Mother's Day Without Mom

It will never be the same.

I will never be the same.

You came.

We loved.

You left.

I will survive until I survive

And one day I will find

Myself alive again.

(from "How to Survive the Loss of Love"

Colgrove, Bloomfield, McWilliams)

Tucked in a stack of mail--a bill from Kohl's, a grocery ad from Sprouts and an application for one more unwanted credit card--is a newsletter from Hospice of the Valley, the above words printed large on the back, the first thing I see when I stand and sort through.

I am certain the timing of the piece was not accidental, that it was set to arrive on the difficult weekend.

How do you spend your first Mother's Day without your mom?

Most of the time I feel I am doing pretty well, but there is an isolation to grief I cannot yet shake, a sense, not that people don't understand, but that everyone has moved on with normalcy and I am still trying to figure out how to piece together a life that was turned upside down.

The article suggested the following:

1. Find a good listener.

2. Be honest with your feelings.

3. Don't expect others to be mind readers. Tell them what you need - whether a hug, time by yourself, or help with the laundry.

4. Cry when you need to and know that is normal.

5. Alternate past routines if those routines spiral you into dark places.

6. Know that faith can help.

"What it cannot do is give us immunity from loss or give us back our lost loved ones--nor can it provide us with a shortcut through grief." (Finding Your way Through Grief: A Guide for the First Year, by Marty Tousley)

I want a shortcut. 

I want to take a shortcut on this journey I am on

forget the scenic route

forget stopping for photographs

forget getting out to stretch my legs

I want to arrive

arrive at my destination of wholeness.

instead I find myself

waiting at terminals

with other anxious people

getting on bumpy flights

that take me one step closer to my destination

but it doesn't seem like it

I feel like I am on an endless ride to nowhere

with the pilot announcing

yet again

"Buckle up. There is turbulence ahead."

I want to get on a There Plane.

(From a collection of poetry, written during my cancer journey. Day 56.)

So to answer the question: How Will You Spend Your First Mother's Day Without Your Mom?

How about help plan a party for 80 other moms and daughters, sisters, friends and grandmas and serve homemade lemon curd on scones dripping with whip cream and invite a balloon artist and sit at a fancy table with friends and wear your mother's hat and pour tea from her tea pot and make new memories with a room filled with people.

And the following day, how about attend church to embrace your shared faith and then have lunch surrounded by family and end the day with dessert at an ice cream parlor.

And know the day will come when you don't think about your mom every day and the day will come when you don't reach for the phone to call her.

But it is not this day.