Celebrating Mother’s Day and Father’s Day: A Little Late But Lots of Love

On Sunday May 14th of this year, I spent the day in Pennsylvania with my Mom. There was nothing really unusual about it; some might say it was kind of expected, since it was Mother’s Day. But though the day was filled with flowers and love, it was because I took my mother to the funeral of one of her best friends. The love surrounded the grieving family; the flowers filled the cemetery where we said our last good-byes.

Though I brought my mom the traditional fuchsia hanging basket for her front porch, neither of us felt like celebrating. When I got back home to New Jersey, I didn’t open up the Mother’s Day cards from my kids or my husband or my mom. I just couldn’t. They sat in a pile on the counter by the phone, and I told my family, “Let’s reschedule. We’ll try again in a few weeks.”

We knew it would need to be while before we would all feel in a celebratory mood, because the following Tuesday — two days after we buried my mom’s friend — we drove to Long Island for another funeral. This time it was my uncle, my dad’s brother, a kind, sweet man who I had only recently learned recited poetry when he was first dating my aunt. Why is it we discover so much about people after they’re gone?

It was a tough week.

The next day, I flew to South Carolina for the BlogPaws and Cat Writers’ Association conference, where I was scheduled to speak. Every animal I met at the conference was therapy for me, as I sorted through the sadness of the previous days.

On Thursday night — two days after I tearfully delivered a eulogy for my uncle — my brother called to tell me that my cousin had died, very suddenly. Away from my family, I sought out my blogging friends, and they enveloped me in love and caring as I did my best to process and then compartmentalize. I still had my session to do, and people were counting on me.

I flew from South Carolina directly to Michigan, where I met my daughter; we came together as family to support my cousin’s wife and children.

Finally home again, I began to process the loss of so many people close to me.

And then Brian’s dad was taken to the hospital with heart failure. He seemed to be doing better, and they were talking about releasing him back to his assisted living apartment, but he got up one night — not wanting to bother the nurses — and he fell, breaking his hip. Brian and I dropped everything and drove up to Connecticut, and just a few days later he was gone.

And so we buried my father-in-law on June 17 and came home to New Jersey to sit shiva in our home — on Father’s Day.

Calvin stands guard by a photo of Brian’s dad, Bob Wood, that we had set out during shiva. That’s Brian’s dad and his sister in the picture on the shelf above.

Athena rarely goes on this table, but she carefully placed herself in between photos of Bob and awards honoring his work with those who are mentally disabled. There was something about the care Athena took to settle herself in among the frames; her thoughtful gaze seemed to imply that maybe she understood the sadness within her favorite human, my husband.

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This past Saturday, Aaron, Corinne, and Luke, as well as my mom and my brother — who was in town from California — gathered at our house for a combined delayed Mother’s and Father’s Day. We sat by the pool, basking in the sun and each other’s company.

The cake says Happy Mother’s and Father’s Day!

It was a moment to feel alive, to break bread — or ice cream cake — to share stories and exchange hugs and gifts, celebrate loved ones who are still with us, and remember those who are with us no longer.

My mom holding one of Corinne’s Mothers’ Day gifts, a framed photo from her and Luke’s wedding.

In the end, it’s the memories that sustain us — not just the big momentous events like weddings, though those are joyous occasions worth celebrating, but also the small moments in between:

Sorting through gifts my mom brought — glassware she collected — she always comes to our house with a bag of something to distribute.

Lilah helps my mom unpack her bag; there might be something in there for dogs.

Interpreting a weather radar screen with my daughter, in an attempt to guess if a small rainstorm will hit us.

Covering the outdoor cushions with my son, after the rain started anyway.

Buttering the first of the season’s sweet corn, and thinking of my dad, who loved fresh corn.

Discussing the relative merits of chocolate chip mint ice cream with my son-in-law.

Listening to a Hans Zimmer album with my husband — a Father’s Day gift from Corinne.

Watching the fireflies dance in our woods with my brother.

Enjoying a rainbow with the entire family, oohing and ahhing at the visual gift from nature, wrapping up our day in a ribbon of color that arced from one end of the sky to the other.

A rainbow wrapped up the day

Hold close your dear ones. They leave too soon.

Related posts:

Tales and tails on Hanukkah Celebrating Hanukkah with Dogs and Cats Story: Father’s Day with dogs and cats Eulogy for my father, Dr. Norman P. Willett