For Mother’s Day: Six Years Later.  (Because You Never Know That the Last Time Is the Last Time)


Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, 2017.

The last Mother’s Day I spent with my mother was May 8, 2011.  We spent it being irritated with each other.  She was planning a big Memorial Day picnic and she wanted me to invite the guy I’d been seeing for over a year to meet the rest of the family.  I refused.  Again.  That wasn’t the way I did things.  I had barely introduced him to my children.  We were both good with this arrangement.  I’d grown up with her parading boyfriend after boyfriend in and out of our lives.  It wasn’t a good experience for me growing up.  I decided after one bad break-up that it wasn’t going to be something I put my own children through.  This time, for some reason, she really pushed.  I dug in my heels and pushed back.  We were both incredibly stubborn women.  I remember swearing, something I never did towards her.  She had crossed a line.

May 9, 2011.  My Facebook status:


“Increasingly irritated with having to defend the choices I make to people that should know me well enough to know why.”

Year after year this comes up again to haunt me, remind me, guilt me.

So very, pointedly directed at my mother.   I was so very irritated with her putting her nose into my personal life and trying to tell me that I needed a man in my life and someone to take care of me.  In the past I would rarely go more than a week without talking to her, but this caused a rift in our relationship and things became horribly strained.  We barely spoke for months.

July 27, 2011.

I was shopping in TJ Maxx with my kids when my cell phone rang, an unknown number.  A voice on the other end told me my mother had been brought into the emergency room and had not made it.  I dropped the bottle of perfume I was holding.   My mother was dead.  Dead?!?

Six years.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

How many times have I cycled through the five stages of grief?

Last year at this time I remember feeling like I had finally overcome that debilitating pain and I had gotten to a new point of acceptance.  And then life happened, I was knocked back down to my knees, and waves of grief flooded back over me.  I missed her more than ever.  I needed her and her wisdom, support, sarcasm….her presence, in my life.

Mother’s Day, 2017.

Grief is not sucking me under this year.  I am humbled though.  I know better than to allow myself to feel as though I’ve conquered it.  My mother’s death is something that is going to stay with me.  It is a part of me.  She is a part of me.

Six years ago I never knew that the last good conversation I had with her was going to be it.  I didn’t know that one fight was going to be the final act.

Had I known, would I have done it differently?

Without a doubt, YES.

In your life there will be lines that are drawn.  You pick a side because you feel it is right.  You stand with your arms firmly at your waist, steadfast.  Sometimes we find, in hindsight, that we were wrong.

It’s ok….it’s good…. to pick your side and stand firm in your beliefs.

But sometimes we find that we don’t have the ability to go back and fix it.  Sometimes you never know that the last time is going to be the last time.


Wishing you all a Happy Mother’s Day.

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7 thoughts on “For Mother’s Day: Six Years Later.  (Because You Never Know That the Last Time Is the Last Time)

  1. I think we’ve all been there with our mothers. I’m sorry for your loss and I appreciate you sharing your story with us. I hope you had a wonderful mother’s day.


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