My Mother Is Still Dead

Robyn & KathyI hate May.

April’s not that great either.

My mom died five years ago, May 21, 2009. I have a post already drafted for that auspicious anniversary. But today is Mother’s Day, and most of the time, when it comes to Mother’s Day, all I can think of is, “My mother is still dead.”

The other day, I was at work and I got a call on my cell phone. I thought it might be someone I contacted about a rental. It wasn’t. Instead, someone asked for Robert.

Me: I’m his wife.

Woman: Oh, so you’re Kathleen.

Me: (pause) That’s my mother, and she’s dead.

Woman: Oh, I’m so sorry.

It turns out it was a billing call, and the woman had the wrong information up on the screen, so it wasn’t even for me.

Totally screwed up my day.

Later, I checked my email on my phone. My Aunt Sue had emailed pretty much all of the cousins to remind us that it was our Aunt Carol’s 60th birthday. Aunt Carol and Aunt Sue are my mom’s sisters. I called Aunt Carol and sang “Happy Birthday” to her voice mail but, while I was doing it, I was hit with the fact that my mother never got a 60th birthday.

She was 59 when she died, 6 months shy of her 60th birthday.

The thing is, I miss my mom. I miss her even though I think she wasn’t a very good mom. She did her best. It wasn’t entirely her fault that her best wasn’t all that great.

Last night, I watched a video with a new bride dancing to her father’s favorite song, without her father, who had died soon before the wedding. I bawled for about an hour.

Yeah. I hate May.

Other posts about my mom:

 

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2 thoughts on “My Mother Is Still Dead

  1. I’m so sorry about your mom. So much of this rings true for me, too. Especially this: “The thing is, I miss my mom. I miss her even though I think she wasn’t a very good mom. She did her best. It wasn’t entirely her fault that her best wasn’t all that great.”

    I still have my mom, though several times I’ve nearly lost her to alcohol and poor self-care. I love her very much, but I really hate Mother’s Day, because the truth is, she’s been a pretty terrible mom in a lot of ways. So, I read all the flowery cards and pick out one that I can stand to give to her. I find her a present. I eat lunch with her. She turned 57 this year, and I don’t know how many years are left. I know that when she goes the call will come just like yours did, and I’ll miss her just like you miss your mom, even despite her flaws. I’m past all the blaming I used to do, because I know, just like you said, that it’s not all her fault that her best isn’t very good.

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