Thoughts of Mom and Mother's Day

It's a bit chilly this morning. I certainly don't need the fireplace on but it is of comfort on this gray, dreary day. I can hear the birds chirping outdoors and the ducks and geese in the pond. I can't hear the fountain, but know it's on. I can see it out the window.

The lilacs are blooming and sweetly fill the air and everything is greening. Not the dark green of summer, but that light, bright green that signals early spring. 

Dandelions are blooming and going to fluff and the grass is growing at a speed that most neighbors can hardly keep up. Our eyes are teary from blooming plants and trees and noses are running. 

I watched a video this morning about a man documenting his mother's dementia journey. Although you did not have dementia, I have sympathy for him when he runs into the "worst day of his life." The day his mother did not know him. I empathize because after your stroke I did not know if you knew me. You could not remember my name for a week or two and I wasn't sure. I thought those were the worst days of my life. I was wrong.

I think about you often. Maybe not as much as you struggled when grandma passed away. But a lot. I sometimes don't realize I am thinking of you. I do miss you a lot. The thing is the worst day of my life, as it stands now, is not you forgetting me, it's the day you left.

Sometimes writing helps.

I know this is the type of morning you loved. You would call me and tell me you were sitting out on your deck with coffee in hand. You'd be watching the birds or other critters come by the deck. Sometimes a squirrel. Sometimes a bunny. Even ducks and deer stopped by. You would tell me of the butterflies, frogs and flowers. It was always about your deck and flowers.

Of course you taught me that it's too early for potted flowers. Never before Memorial Day. I would laugh and talk about my greenhouse or hoop house. Like I could one up Mother Nature. I lost many plants with my "knowledge" but never put out potted flowers before Memorial Day, unless they were cold weather hardy, like Pansies. 

Those friendly cheerful faces on the Pansies, the lilacs and the gerber daisy I saved from your memorial remind me of you. The birds. The critters outside my window, they too are a reminder. 

I am doing OK mom. I miss you and love you. Happy Mother's Day.  This year it's hard, but know that I hold you in my heart and will forever remember.