Yesterday was Mother's Day.
I thought I would be cool with it...the weeks leading up to it had been better...I felt myself breathing easier, the sharpness of reminiscence having dulled to a bittersweet ache. But as Nick bought the last part to his Mother's Day gift Thursday evening, and I looked around at the bouquets of flowers, balloons, and sappy cards, I knew a chilling emptiness that cannot be truly understood until you've lost the one person who ever really knew you inside and out.
But still, I promised myself I would be stoic.
Nick offered to accompany me to my mother's final resting place the day before. My first instinct was to reject the idea, the idea of going there at all. "Why do you look for me there?" she'd be saying...but as the day wound down, and as my tongue loosened and hold ups wilted with the combination of my stomach medication and dinner's wine, I took him up on his offer.
Sunday afternoon came and he stopped at Walgreen's first, needing both a card and wrapping paper, and there I grabbed a bag of peanut M&M's...I told him I was doping up before the onslaught. It was cold and rainy. I muttered, "This is just like Easter. Will all holidays be dreary now?"
He parked along the edge of the cemetery and retrieved an umbrella. I was crying almost immediately and in little time I felt loving arms blanketing me in life and staying the chill of death. I tried to go back to the car almost instantly, but he held me there saying, "Take as long as you need." And I stood there, remembering her smile.
When finally we returned from the muddy trek, Nick pointed out that I should have saved some M&M's for after. I sniffled very impolitely, having no Kleenex—I was so prepared to not dissolve that not only did I not bring tissues, but I had applied mascara that morning as well—and mumbled, "I'll remember that for next time."
Nick asked her birthday...I told him it was the fourteenth of August. "That'll be the next biggie," he made a mental note. Then, adding lightness, as he is so adept at adding, "Then, Halloween." And, although I am certain it added to my attractiveness ten, nay one-hundred fold, I laughed a shocked gurgle and my congested nose knew no restraint.
As we passed Culver's on the way to the cemetery, I had noticed
Lemon Ice was back for the season. Nick stopped there on the return, saying he would find me some napkins to mop up my ruined face. He returned with the treat...and even though I knew my stomach was already showing signs of protest from the M&M's and I knew it was going to be "one of those days" wherein it would be an effort to keep anything down, I let the citrus slush numb my tongue and the memories of summery loveliness I built just one year ago take their hold.
I attended Nick's family's Mother's Day celebration...it was easier, somehow...celebrating in a home that wasn't so imbued with the sense of loss...being able to step out of the spotlight and just exist.
