MAMA MERMAID

Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me this year. While I enjoy the love of my family and celebrate the other special ladies in my life, there is a void that is still healing from my own mother’s passing. It is a sharp, inexplicable pang that greets me when I see her picture. That mysterious smile, golden eyes sparkling with a wild spirit—my mother was a spunky lady with an infectious charm but also a woman of immeasurable talent, creativity and enthusiasm for life.

The other day I was in the grocery store parking lot where I saw a young woman carrying her toddler and she was walking along side an older woman who judging by their similarities they had to be mother and daughter. I recognized the young woman’s annoyed look because it’s one I had donned more than once when dealing with my mother. I don’t know what it was that struck me about this situation: that this could have been me, Rosie and my mama at some point or that, sadly, it never will. I was instantly jealous of this stranger, jealous of not just her but anyone else who still had their mother.

The truth is, I would give anything to hear my mother’s voice one more time. Hell, to even have an argument with her over something stupid would be okay, we would just laugh about it later anyways.

 I still feel the best way to honor my mom and the life she led is to carry on with joy in my heart even if it is a struggle sometimes. I know she was proud of my sister and I, that she loved her grandbaby, Stephen and all of his family too. I find comfort in that.