honor my mother's memory

Mother’s Day went pretty well for me this year. I was able to honor her in my own way without getting depressed about it. That’s a big thing, because most times I try to do something it gets me down, and finally being able to rise above it is a big step.

I’ve been needing to write an entry for a while now. Between dreaming of her last night and going to check the mail this morning only to find a letter addressed to her from the Cancer Hospital, I knew that putting it off wouldn’t do any good. I need to write it down and get it off my mind.

July was a particularly tough month for me. Her birthday was in early July, and celebrations were usually lumped together with Independence day celebrations, so it was like a double void that week. She would have been 50.

I had a plan of how to cope a little better this year, and to do something to honor her. I went out to dinner at a place the two of us used to visit regularly. It wasn’t the same at all; the restaurant was unrecognizable. Still, I felt as though I was doing something.

The plan was to go home and watch The Sound of Music, but that’s something that never happened till many weeks later. Still, when I watched it I thought of her and how we used to watch it together when I was a kid.

Really, since the middle of July I’ve been much stronger. Not to say I don’t think of her, but certain times of the year are more painful than others. I managed to get through a family vacation this summer, and another birthday with minimal emotional difficulties. Of course, I do like to wear her jewelry on special days so a piece of her is there with me.

Now, heading into the holiday season, I’m scared of how I’ll handle everything. This is usually the worst time of year for me, and besides missing her, this year will probably be worse for me than those in the recent past. I hope that continuing to find ways to honor her will help me stay strong through the year’s end.

I feel like intuition guided me here. For no particular reason I’ve been on a rampage cleaning out my usually junky car. I took out all the clutter and reciepts, vacuumed it, and wiped down the dashboard. I also took out the rubber liners that were inside the cup holders. They were pretty gunky, so I took them to the sink and started scrubbing them out.
The gunk came out, and something caught my eye right before it went down the drain. It couldn’t be…
But, it was. It was the earring I thought I had lost months ago. I had one half of the pair in my bathroom, and was looking at it just the other day, thinking I might just have to toss it soon, since I was never going to find its mate. It was my mom’s earring, though, and I just couldn’t part with it.
Three days later I found the long lost earring. In the car that used to belong to her, almost as if she’s trying to tell me something. Offering her help.
Silly, but it’s a comforting thought right now. This is one of the times I miss her most.

I was at work the other day and I overhear one of the guys asking the chef if he can make a birthday cake. The chef tells him no, and this guy looks pretty disappointed.

So, I get talking to him and he asks if I can bake a cake. I tell him that I can. Don’t get me wrong, I love baking, and I can make a cake, but I feel like I’m in a bit over my head with this one with my work schedule this week.

Here is the thing; my mother loved to bake and she was spectacular at decorating cakes. Every birthday I had she’d make me a beautiful cake coordinated with the theme of my party. I remember her making cakes for people on special occasions; once or twice even baking a wedding cake. So I feel like something that she would do, out of kindness, and enjoyment.

Still, this one runs a little deeper for me. Not only is this guy a sweet man- there’s definitely a weak spot in me for helping out a guy trying to make his wife’s birthday special—but my mother and I knew his wife.

It was ages ago, and neither of them remember me, but I recognized her clear as day. She was the librarian at my Elementary school when I was a kid. My mother was PTA president and an active volunteer in the school library. I knew she really liked and admired this lady, and even though neither she or her husband know me as her daughter, I feel that this is something I should do.

I like to think that my mom would be proud of me for this; or that it is something she would do or help me with if she were here.

I just hope I don’t let everyone down with my work.