I wanted to blog about our local Farmer’s Market that I love so much for the best finds in beautiful organic produce. I had a story to share of how I’d run into one of my mom’s oldest and dearest friends; that we talked for half an hour reminiscing memories of mom, catching up on the family one by one. I was going to note that I did not miss the irony of this conversation with a woman who has known me most of my life as it was happening under the tent of Deep Roots Organic Farm stand.
I was going to tie in the random musings of my weekend to my first Mother’s Day without my mom. I had the perfect chosen words that embraced this day; how I spent it in the kitchen baking, flooded with memories of my mom. Baking was one of my mom’s favorite past times and she was a darn good baker. It felt right to be creating in the room that she loved the most; that I love the most.
Clearly, this blog is not my intended. I did spend my day in the kitchen baking after returning from an early breakfast with my dad. I used my lovely rhubarb I purchased from the Farmer’s Market to make a delicious Gluten Free Rhubarb, Lemon and Almond Cake as well as some rhubarb chutney to be used for our appetizers and dinner later.
While I certainly had plenty of memories surrounding my mom, there were no lovely sentiments floating through my mind that I was eager to blog about. I had no desire to sit down to my lap top and blog out memories or feelings or recipes. I had no desire to even look at anything on line other than the few recipes I’d intended to play with for the day. I stayed away from all my social media and email. Reading condolences, prayers and thoughts of me on this very difficult day was not something I could bear to see. I felt too much pain in my heart. Seeing pictures and shares from my family was not what I wanted to see on this day. Nor did I want to see glowing, gushing remarks about others’ own mothers. I needed to protect my heart.
I mentally prepared for this Mother’s Day the best I could. I thought I was doing fairly well. But, when this day arrived I was anything but well. I had a heavy heart and was low in spirit. My sweetie had to work so I was on my own to get through this day without completely falling into inconsolable despair. It was rough. Rough. I cried. A lot. I wanted to be alone. I felt lost in anguish several times.
I got through the day and I am recovering emotionally. Grief is like a hard slap in the face. I think I’ve got this; I can handle it. I have a tool box filled with useful mantras and such to help me face any challenge. While all this is true, grief is so heavy I simply forget to do the many things I know are good. It is too hard. Too overwhelming. It continuously catches me off guard, even when I think I feel strong. Indeed, it is a painful process.
So, I’ll share my pictures, but the original story is changed. I can tell you how happy the market produce makes me feel. I can say the baking and playing in the kitchen all day did give moments of contentedness. The big picture still remains. I am forever changed with the death of my mom. I feel like I now search for a new place; one that I hope will someday bring me peace in my loss.
Although I am one day late of the officiated day, personally, I think Mother’s Day is every day and I bet most mom’s would agree. We need to celebrate ourselves more and give kudos to the people who have the hardest job in the world. I wish you all a blessed day; every day.
I love you, mom. I miss you terribly. I am beginning to appreciate you in ways I never imagined. I am thankful for you. Happy Mother’s Day to you–somewhere over the rainbow.
My take home stash