Mother’s Day 2017 was rough.
My Mona suddenly fell ill, sending Rob and me to the animal hospital at the crack of dawn. I kept it together to keep Mona calm. But after 7 hours of tests and diagnostics, we learned her situation was critical. As I signed off to leave her overnight, my mom waited for me outside. I walked out and immediately broke down, weeping into her arms. I was a girl who needed her mother.
So we cried. And when I calmed, my Mom went home to put her armor on to fight another battle–she went home to care for my now partially paralyzed, bedridden grandmother who moved into her home in March. This shadow of a woman who helped raise me would likely wake her in the depth of night, and my Mom would be right there for whatever her Mother needed. And then my Aunt would come the next day to relieve her. And on and on and on…
At that moment, when my Mom drove off to go back home to begin her cycle again, I was so grateful for the Mothers in my family. I was so grateful that despite all the sadness that has descended upon us, that we continue to show up for each other–no matter how broken we all feel. We’re like a shattered mosaic just trying to fit our pieces together again.
Outside in the parking lot, I spotted a pothole shaped like a heart. I knew there was poetry in it when I saw it. I knew it meant something. Perhaps it symbolized the shape of my gratitude or a reflection of the bumps in our journey, or maybe it was just there to give me a moment to pause and smile.
On Monday, May 15, I received confirmation that Mona’s ailment was rooted in her heart, and that her time with us is limited.
Perhaps it was awful that this all began on Mother’s Day, or perhaps the day made our collective feminine strength all the more powerful.