Mother's Day... it can be a strange mixed up emotional day.
Last week I went to Maddie's class for Mother's Day Tea. The kids recited poetry for us and served us fruit and muffins. She gave me her handmade collection of her poetry. I sat in her desk and watched her do her thing with her friends and in the classroom. This is one of her last events in elementary school, which means it's one of mine too. No more class parties to go to or send snacks to, we're looking ahead to middle school and none of those things really go on there. That realization made me a little teary eyed.
And so yesterday, my getting-older children didn't make me homemade Mother's Day cards. They didn't make me breakfast in bed with their Dad's help, they did get up late for church and start bickering, like usual, to which I reminded them it was Mother's Day and I'd just like a happy day, and I might have added a whiny please. So that was that and we were on about our day.
I hoped to take the kids and Sadie to the river since that is one of my most favorite places to be. We packed up and made it there about 10 minutes before the big black storm clouds rumbled down the river. The thunder started and the kids voluntarily asked to head out before the storm caught us. So we did. I rode home with a smelly wet dog in my lap.
We passed by the cemetery where Nana is buried, where Maddie and I planted petunias in her flower pot the day before. The missing her doesn't lessen as the time goes on, especially for her boys. I often think of something one of the kids did and think about telling her about it but she's not there to tell. But then I remember all the things I did tell her and all the time she spent with the kids and I smile.
I'm different than most I guess, remembering doesn't make me sad, it makes me grateful for what was.
That's when I realized... I don't want my kids to miss me when I'm gone, I'm going to heaven and I won't be looking back. I want them to think of me and remember every good and happy thing we ever experienced or shared together. I want them to remember how I showed them I loved them, even if it hurt or they didn't understand it. I want them to remember that I tried my best to be the mother they needed. I want them to tell my grandchildren stories about me, teach them how to cook all our favorite foods, take them to Edisto and to the river and tell them how much I loved taking them there. I want them to carry on our traditions. I want them to smile and not shed one sad tear over me. I want them to be happy for all the thousands of days I lived and not think another thought about the day I died.
So my note to myself is this: Make your life count for something, even if it's success is in the series of small moments when you just held on for dear life and in the end a beautiful family was your masterpiece. Leave a trail of happy memories for your kids to take walks up and down, over and over. Talk to your kids about the legacy you want them to see that you left behind. Prepare them for when you won't be there any more, but remind them too that where you will be is in the happy memories. Live so they see you everywhere.
~Tara
