SURPRISE your Mom.” I see all these adverts everywhere for one of the most celebrated days of the year—Mother’s Day. I would be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt to be reminded I can no longer celebrate this day with my mother.
Surprise your Mom. At this point in my life, what else can I possibly do to surprise her? Hmm...produce a husband?
I don’t know at what point in her life my mother finally gave up trying to convince me I needed a husband. But I eventually wore her down. One day, she finally saw the light and agreed that I didn’t need one. That or she just wanted to save one man a miserable life.
I distinctly remember my mother’s last words on this issue. “Okay, I agree with you but could you please keep your opinions to yourself?” But as always, I have to defy her.
In the aftermath of my mother’s passing, I took stock of my life and thought of all my failings.
I came up with a very long list of unpardonable sins ranging from a lifetime of acid dripping from my tongue to not spending enough time with her to not producing a husband and grandchildren and last but not the least, responding with silence to her deathbed requests for me to go with her.
Anyone else would have said yes. But not me. I wanted to stay true to myself. I wanted to live. So every time my mother said, “Come with me,” I responded with silence.
And it gnaws at me every day. Can my mother ever forgive me for saying no? Can she ever forgive me for choosing life? Can she ever forgive me for letting her go alone?
It’s probably an unhealthy activity to indulge in—mulling over all the times I have disappointed my mother but I’ve always been a bit of a masochist—torturing myself with replays of past transgressions, almost like a form of self-flagellation.
“Surprise your Mom.” How, Ma? I can no longer produce grandchildren. But it’s really for the best that I am never replicated in any form. Producing a husband is in the realm of the impossible too for reasons too complicated to explain. Suffice it to say that if I remain no one’s wife, my entry into the kingdom of God is almost guaranteed.
My mother was not especially enamored with my brand of humor but I think she might be smiling now. And possibly because I am dead serious.
I’m sorry I failed you, Ma, in more ways than one. I’m sorry I broke your heart too many times than I can count. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a son-in-law and grandchildren but I can give you more. I can bring your daughter back—the one who lives with hope, gratitude and joy, no matter what.
I would be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt to know you’re never coming back but I will celebrate today, nevertheless, because I never want to forget what a fabulous mama you were to all of us.
Happy Mother’s Day, Ma.