This time of year is notoriously hard on me. I tend to get overly emotional and sometimes feel depressed.You see, I miss my grandparents dearly. Time has not lessened that fact.
From the date of my grandfather's birthday on April 30, followed closely by their anniversary, and my grandma's birthday with Mother's Day always close in proximity, my heart is just a tender mess.
I long for the times when I knew I could always go home. I long for a time where I felt I belonged no matter what circumstances spiraled around me.
I was dreading today. Like absolutely dreading it. I have a propensity to be thoroughly let down. No matter how much I try to lower my expectations, it never seems to be low enough.
I hit snooze a few times this morning. By the time I was coherent, I only had 20 minutes before my friends were supposed to pick me up for church. I was feeling uneasy. So much so that my stomach hurt.
So, I pulled the covers back over my head and tried to go back to sleep. When the mister arrived home from work, I decided to get up.
Both mister and the boy were asking me questions and talking jovially, but no one uttered the three words I was waiting to hear. Even if they felt forced or rushed, I would have been okay with that.
When the tears spilled and I couldn't stop them despite my best efforts, I decided to get dressed and go to work.
It felt good to get out of the house. After about four hours, I decided to head back home.
By then, the oldest was up. He asked me if I had talked to grandma. Clearly he knew what today was. I waited, but he never said the three words.
Rebellious hot tears slid down my cheeks. I didn't want them to see me cry. And at this point, I was honestly beginning to get angry. Like crazy mad. The kind of mad that stems from a deep hurt.
I mean, I am not by any stretch of the imagination a perfect mom. But, by golly, I have always tried my best. I work incredibly hard to provide for my family. And saying those three words wouldn't cost them a thing.
Exasperated, I left again. I drove across town and back again. I ended up at the Goodwill. I walked around until after the sun set and then made my way back to my car.
I sat there feeling totally sorry for myself. And I cried some more {I think I have cried more today than I have all year}. Then, some movement across the way caught my attention. I looked across the street. Under the Flamingo Antique Mall was a middle-aged woman. She was spreading out her blankets, shaking them with a flourish, and laying them on the concrete in the doorway.
I began to wonder if she was a mother, or if she had a family. How many beds had she made for her little ones, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for that matter.
Then I saw an elderly woman next to her. She was setting up her blankets next to the other lady. I mustered up some nerve and took out all the cash I had in my wallet, although it wasn't much, and crossed the street.
I greeted the first lady uneasily and handed her some bills. She thanked me. I walked over to the elderly lady and did the same. She looked at me with big, gray eyes that were quite similar to my grandmother's and mine {I always marveled at the fact that my eyes resembled my grandmother's even though we didn't share the same DNA}.
She took the money, but didn't have much to say. She seemed confused by my presence, her eyes carefully studying me. She wore an oversize pea coat and men's tennis shoes that were at least four sizes too big for her. I noticed that she wore a wedding ring and a dainty watch. I again wondered about her family. How many babies did she raise? Why was this sweet woman on the streets?
Cici, the name of first lady, said that she watched out for the older one. After all, she had said that there was word of a rapist in the area, and the older one had been jumped before by some juvenile delinquents.
Suddenly, my pity party seemed so insignificant. I wasn't alone. I wasn't on the streets. I hadn't been beaten up by anyone. I have so many people who love me. The mister and my boys, even though they can act like selfish assholes sometimes, love me even if they have a lousy way of showing it. Let's face it, we can all act like assholes sometimes.
And as I walked back to get into my car and drive to my home where it is warm and safe, the three words that occupied my heart, the three words that I think I really needed to hear today were not "Happy Mother's Day," but the reminder to LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
So, at the end of this day {which I am glad is coming to a close}, I have a headache and swollen, red eyes along with the reminder to live a life of love and that is always done best when there aren't any expectations.
On the eve of my grandma's birthday, a woman who demonstrated what sacrificial love looked like with her every day actions, I am grateful for the impact she had on my life.
And tomorrow, until my tomorrows are no more, is another day to practice loving one another.
I was dreading today. Like absolutely dreading it. I have a propensity to be thoroughly let down. No matter how much I try to lower my expectations, it never seems to be low enough.
I hit snooze a few times this morning. By the time I was coherent, I only had 20 minutes before my friends were supposed to pick me up for church. I was feeling uneasy. So much so that my stomach hurt.
So, I pulled the covers back over my head and tried to go back to sleep. When the mister arrived home from work, I decided to get up.
Both mister and the boy were asking me questions and talking jovially, but no one uttered the three words I was waiting to hear. Even if they felt forced or rushed, I would have been okay with that.
When the tears spilled and I couldn't stop them despite my best efforts, I decided to get dressed and go to work.
It felt good to get out of the house. After about four hours, I decided to head back home.
By then, the oldest was up. He asked me if I had talked to grandma. Clearly he knew what today was. I waited, but he never said the three words.
Rebellious hot tears slid down my cheeks. I didn't want them to see me cry. And at this point, I was honestly beginning to get angry. Like crazy mad. The kind of mad that stems from a deep hurt.
I mean, I am not by any stretch of the imagination a perfect mom. But, by golly, I have always tried my best. I work incredibly hard to provide for my family. And saying those three words wouldn't cost them a thing.
Exasperated, I left again. I drove across town and back again. I ended up at the Goodwill. I walked around until after the sun set and then made my way back to my car.
I sat there feeling totally sorry for myself. And I cried some more {I think I have cried more today than I have all year}. Then, some movement across the way caught my attention. I looked across the street. Under the Flamingo Antique Mall was a middle-aged woman. She was spreading out her blankets, shaking them with a flourish, and laying them on the concrete in the doorway.
I began to wonder if she was a mother, or if she had a family. How many beds had she made for her little ones, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for that matter.
Then I saw an elderly woman next to her. She was setting up her blankets next to the other lady. I mustered up some nerve and took out all the cash I had in my wallet, although it wasn't much, and crossed the street.
I greeted the first lady uneasily and handed her some bills. She thanked me. I walked over to the elderly lady and did the same. She looked at me with big, gray eyes that were quite similar to my grandmother's and mine {I always marveled at the fact that my eyes resembled my grandmother's even though we didn't share the same DNA}.
She took the money, but didn't have much to say. She seemed confused by my presence, her eyes carefully studying me. She wore an oversize pea coat and men's tennis shoes that were at least four sizes too big for her. I noticed that she wore a wedding ring and a dainty watch. I again wondered about her family. How many babies did she raise? Why was this sweet woman on the streets?
Cici, the name of first lady, said that she watched out for the older one. After all, she had said that there was word of a rapist in the area, and the older one had been jumped before by some juvenile delinquents.
Suddenly, my pity party seemed so insignificant. I wasn't alone. I wasn't on the streets. I hadn't been beaten up by anyone. I have so many people who love me. The mister and my boys, even though they can act like selfish assholes sometimes, love me even if they have a lousy way of showing it. Let's face it, we can all act like assholes sometimes.
And as I walked back to get into my car and drive to my home where it is warm and safe, the three words that occupied my heart, the three words that I think I really needed to hear today were not "Happy Mother's Day," but the reminder to LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
So, at the end of this day {which I am glad is coming to a close}, I have a headache and swollen, red eyes along with the reminder to live a life of love and that is always done best when there aren't any expectations.
On the eve of my grandma's birthday, a woman who demonstrated what sacrificial love looked like with her every day actions, I am grateful for the impact she had on my life.
And tomorrow, until my tomorrows are no more, is another day to practice loving one another.