Missing Donna on Mother's Day

I got a phone call early in the morning on Mother's Day, 2001, confirming that I was planning to come home that day. My Grandma Donna, battling lung cancer, wasn't doing well. I could tell from the sound of my dad's voice that it was worse than that. He's always the one who calls to give me bad news. We sped home but she died on the way there.

It's hard to celebrate a holiday when every symbol of that day reminds you of grief and loss. A lot of people understand this. But we can't stay there. We can't affix ourselves to that sadness. Letting go of grief, and moving on, back to love, is inevitable, or we're not living.

Maybe it's my age, maybe it's my recent brush with death and changed outlook on living, but it feels different now. The best way we can honor those we have loved and lost is by acknowledging those we love that are still with us.

Mother's Day was a blessing for me this year, because I am alive. Because I am alive to be with my own mother for longer. And because when selecting a Mother's Day card, they all made me think of my Grandma Donna, and I smiled. And remembered her laugh. And her good-natured, competitive card playing. And her summer gardens.

Because she died on Mother's Day, I think about her every year when the holiday rolls by (and loads of other times, too- she was something special). When I remember her, it brings her as close to my heart as possible. And I smile. And then the love I feel for those still with me expands.

That is not a bad thing.