A Mother's Day without a mother

The month of May is a peculiar one for me because it means so many different things. It’s when Mother’s Day happens, it’s the birth month of my mom and it’s probably my favourite time of the year. What’s not to love? When you’re a kid in school, it means your year is almost at its end, it’s the easiest month to spell and the weather during recess is wonderful! I truly love the month of May.

But this year, May brings a mix of emotions for me.

For the past three years, I have celebrated this day without my own mother. Each subsequent holiday has been a bit lighter on my shoulders, but it still hurts. However, this year I now mourn the loss of my Lola (my mom’s mom).

I’ve lamented how I barely got to know my own mother before she died. And if I didn’t really know my own mother, my Lola was almost a stranger to me. This comes down to a few different factors; the main one being my lack of fluency in Tagalog. It makes me sad that I no longer have any living grandparents.

What makes me even sadder is that my mom was the only one of my Lola’s children to die. My Lola had to witness and mourn the death of one of her own children shortly before dying herself. That upsets me to no end. I suppose I can take solace in the idea that in some way, my mom is reunited with her own mother.

I wish I could be a little more upbeat and positive, but the truth is today is full of empty wishes. How I wish I could have given my mom every bouquet of flowers that I could carry. How I wish I could relive watching Kawhi Leonard’s series-winning buzzer beater over the Sixers with her again and again. How I wish I could cook a delicious meal for her just as she did for me thousands of times.

But now I am joined by my aunts and uncles who also cannot truly celebrate this day; instead we share memories of mothers who have left us.

If misery loves company, then grief is their banquet. And this year, their feast is a bountiful one.