Less than happy, mother's day

My heart is almost painfully full this fine morning. Full of joy at my own good fortune, but at the same time crowded with pain for so many friends who are not feeling "happy" on this day. The ache of empty arms, the memories of an "iffy" mother or of things that ended badly and things that will never be, the hurt, the betrayal, the abandonment, the grief, the fear, the confusion.

Trying to be sensitive to that pain makes me wonder if I should keep quiet about my own joy. I certainly do not want to flaunt it in the faces of those who don't have it. But minimizing my own blessings is probably not the answer. So what is the answer?

Maybe it is simply to remember. To remind myself and any who will listen that this is not a happy day for some women and that some little greeting will not make it so. Cannot make it so.

So today I remember. I remember those who feel pain today. Those who bear shame. Those whose arms ache. Those whose calendars bring sadness and fear and memories of loss.

I will remember that not all of us had wonderful mothers and that there has been deep harm done by those who should have protected from harm.

I will remember those who did have good moms who were taken too soon and are so terribly missed.

I will remember the mothers who can barely breathe on this day because of pain and loss.

I remember. And I learn of more of you.

I wish to stand with you somehow. Or to sit with you. In the pain. To sit quietly beside you so that you know someone cares. To listen if you want to rant. Or weep.

To send quiet hugs your way.

To tell you I am so sorry for your loss.

To let you know that you are not alone.