It’s the day after Mother’s Day, and I’m sitting alone in the quiet early morning hours. Getting up early isn’t new to me. While I’d love to enjoy a late-morning lie-in, my circadian rhythm doesn’t work that way. For years, I fought against my natural sleep pattern, frustrated by my inability to sleep late when the opportunity arose. However, now I look forward to these quiet moments. Today, as I reflect on the day after Mother’s Day, my thoughts are centered on my own mother and those who have shaped my experience as a mother.
When are you coming?
I lost my mother in 2008 to a blood clot. I was living in Malawi at the time and was considering flying back to be with her when she passed away. The last time I spoke with her was on a Saturday while she was in the hospital. She said, “I’ll come out of this.” Unfortunately, she didn’t recover and died two days later. I felt guilty for being away from her during that time. Additionally, I felt guilty for not being with my firstborn son, Tommy, who was living near her at the time. He was just 22 years old and had been in the USA for only three years, having grown up in Africa.
When my mom passed away, I spoke to Tommy on the phone, and he asked, “When are you coming?” Those words still resonate in my mind. In response, I said, “I’m on my way,” and began packing my bags. My firstborn has always been independent, so hearing those words had a profound effect on me, one that lingers to this day. In that moment, I realized just how much influence a mother has on her children. While grieving the loss of my mother, I was consumed with thoughts of my son. I wondered how he was coping with her death, as this was the first loss of a family member he had experienced.
The day after Mother’s Day hits different
It’s been about 16 years since my mother passed away, but the day after Mother’s Day always feels particularly difficult for me. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think it’s because on Mother’s Day, I have to set aside my sadness and focus on appreciating the people who are still in my life. Yesterday, I enjoyed long phone calls, received text messages, went out for lunch, cherished a homemade card, and received flowers. My mother would have given me a hard time if I had overlooked the blessings of yesterday.
But today, in the quiet, I’m remembering my own mother. Her sacrifices, sorrows, and joys somehow affect me today. I miss her still.
