I wish my Mom had lived longer. While I know I was blessed to have her here well into her 80’s, it wasn’t enough time. It never is when a beloved one passes away. I look at social media and see all of these people with their moms and I keep hoping that they know they need to treasure this time. Treasure it as life is short and Moms are precious. At least mine was. I hope to carry on that tradition of unconditional love and pass it along to my sons. I pray that one day, when I am gone, they will remember me fondly and be grateful for the time we spent together – as that’s how I feel about my own Mom.
She wasn’t perfect, but then none of us are, are we? She did her best under the circumstances and always, always, told us she loved us. Sometimes repeatedly as if she somehow knew that I would need to rely on those words years later. Shore them up for a later date when that child inside of me needed her Mommy. When I needed to remember how once long ago, I had a Mommy who loved me with her whole heart, for always and forever.
Because I don’t know if it’s the energies or Mother’s Day, but this morning, well, perhaps you can tell, I’m a bit teary. I’m missing my Mom. I’m missing being loved by my Mom. I’ve built a beautiful friendship team of women in my life. Most of us are now the matriarchs ourselves since our Moms passed already, but some have simply lost their Moms which is unfortunate. But what connects us, what we have in common, is the way in which we mother each other.
Yes, you read that right. I am part of a group of women who mother each other – kindly share, mentor, and understand when we feel that nobody else really does. We lead with kindness and supportive love with that imperceptible trusting motherly instinct of sending out comfort when needed. We even go as far as doing the Mom praise and maybe even a lil’ bit of the Mom nagging…LOL Some things just don’t change, do they? I mean, how could we call ourselves Moms if we didn’t do a bit of reminding? Ha Ha
We fill in the gaps that our Moms left. We united slowly, subtly over time. It’s been a beautiful journey, truly. Interestingly enough, not all of them know each other. What I mean is, they know of each other, but some have never met and yet, we are intertwined. Some are not Moms, having chosen to not have offspring, and yet they are Mom-like all the same. Perhaps it’s part of that feminine mystique that is so prevalent in women. We just have it in our genes to mother. We’re simply built that way.
So today, I raise my coffee cup in honor of the women in my life. The ones who have mothered me and who have allowed me to mother them. The ones who cared enough to stick around in the midst of chaos. My appreciation is deeper than they’ll ever really understand. Because kindness and feeling loved is more precious than anything. Don’t you think?