Mother's Day
The day grows ever more poignant to this orphan.
As I grow older, ever more distant from parents and children, observations morph to memories and memories fade to...ache.
Even so, there’s still much to contemplate and celebrate. Motherhood defies description. At its best, it extends beyond love, beyond mere relationship. It is a dedication to purpose beyond self-sacrifice. It is the crafting of souls by two pairs of disparately-sized hands, each molding the other. It is something beyond human, beyond time and space. It is something elemental, more powerful than mere animal strength. Pity the fool who ventures between a mother and her offspring. To do so is to court disaster, perhaps mortal peril. Even if the mother in question is otherwise little more than a timid ball of fluff.
We do right to celebrate Motherhood, every bit as vital as the spring rain and summer sun. On this day we celebrate the closest we can ever come to know the best angels among us.
* * *
My ex and I spent many a year vacationing on Hilton Head Island in early May. We looked forward to leaving winter’s chill behind to frolic in the ocean, wildly drunk on sunshine and sea breezes. We were younger, stronger then. We played as often as we could.
We arrived on a Sunday. It had been a long drive so we decided to celebrate our happy arrival at our favorite French bistro. It offered linen tablecloths and fine victuals. As we entered, we were struck by all the flowers. It was all so utterly charming.
The waitress arrived tableside with a red rose for the lady. “Happy Mother’s Day!” She caught us both by surprise. “I’m not a Mother” my wife stammered. Momentary awkwardness ensued. “You deserve a rose anyway.”
As our server retreated to fetch our bottle of wine, I looked at my wife bathed in candlelight, surrounded by flowers and glorious scents. A tear tracked slowly down her cheek.
It was an ache we shared and carried within us for decades thereafter. Growing.
* * *
I’ll end as I began. This day grows ever more poignant to this motherless child. I celebrate all that is to be celebrated. The joy is leavened in the knowing that somewhere...a tear falls.
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* * *
I’ll end as I began. This day grows ever more poignant to this motherless child. I celebrate all that is to be celebrated. The joy is leavened in the knowing that somewhere...a tear falls.
* * *
posted by Jonas | 5/09/2010 08:37:00 PM
5 Comments:
As a fellow orphan, and one who will remain motherless, it is indeed a poignant day, Jonas.
And another orphan joins in... also not a mother, except to the myriad of four legged ones that have graced my life. I share the sorrow, the poignancy and the memories...
I'm not an orphan, but my parents are so far away that I sometimes feel like one. I forgot to do something special for mother's day. I always do. I hate being told when to celebrate things. I'm not sure which is worse, the fact that I've forgotten, or not knowing for sure whether this bothers my mother or not.
I feel for you. Eventually, sooner or later, we all become orphans. This thought is never far from my mind. xx
I was an orphan for 21 days, but it was enough to birth another member in club orphan, club bastard. I was so moved, by the tear. The waitress, she meant well, did not stop to consider, how hard Mother's Day is for so many.
As a mother I would be genuinely proud if my son turned out like you. Your grace moves me so much. You have such a good spirit.
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