A few years ago, I lost my mom. I think of her often. For some reason, I think of her when I’m alone looking up at the night sky. I miss her compassion, her energy, her love. Since she’s gone, however, given to me was a realization that though she’s gone, her love is not. But if you’d have told me that a few years ago, I would have said “yeah, yeah, that sounds like a nice sentiment” and continued to sit with my confusion of how to receive this love that is apparently still there.
For me, this has been one of my most profound realizations. What I miss most about having my mom to talk to is her nurturing tone – that voice and energy that supports the idea that everything is ok. That no matter what, I am loved. She is a pillar who listens, she is a shoulder to cry on, she is the arms to wrap around me, no matter how frail, that will set my spine upright and melt me all at once.
My realization was this: my mother is every friend, every woman, every feminine spirit whom I know is there in my times of need and desperation. She is a pillar who listens, she is a shoulder to cry on, she is the arms to wrap around me.
On this Mother’s Day (and every day), I hold dear to my thoughts the women who nurture, the women who give us everything we have. My mother, who allows me to look up at the night sky and feel safe, feel loved, and feel the strength to return that love.