I thought this would be a tough week for me, but for this moment, I’m handling things ok.

Sunday, May 11: Mother’s day. This was the day in 2005 when Mom had to be resuscitated twice and then signed the DNR, all falling at the end of a week where we learned that cancer was everywhere inside of her.

Monday, May 12: Mom’s birthday. In 2005, on her 79th birthday, all she wanted to do was make it to 80. In 2007, when she turned 81, she whispered her final words.
Saturday, May 17:  Five days later in 2007, she died.

I have been dreading all of this, but now that I am here, I am calm, albeit a little reserved. But calm nonetheless.

Why? Perhaps it’s that I’m not close enough to my brothers to mourn her passing, where there’s strong emotion flowing freely between us. Or maybe because my sister, whom I am close with, lives in Florida, and we’re not close geographically. Or maybe it’s this. When Dad died, Mom mourned for many months, and it was so tough helping her through that. But there is no surviving spouse. She lived a wonderful life. I was with her just hours before she died. I had my chances–and I used them–to say goodbye. There’s no anger or frustration or guilt or any of that.

There is sadness. I miss her terribly every day.

But on this day, I have no worries about turning my attention to my wife and the celebrations with our own children. I do not see my sadness interfering at all with her wonderful day.

There was much of that last year. On my wife’s birthday on May 20, we spent the night at my mother’s viewing.

This, more than any other year, is my wife’s day for celebration with her children.

And maybe it’s this way because I know that’s the way Mom would want it anyway.

To all of you: my thoughts, my wishes, my love are with you on this day of celebration and remembrance for the sacrifices mothers have made–and continue to make–for their children.