A Sunday Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition: n. the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Believe it or not that word showed up on the SAT’s all THREE times I took the damn test.  Not once could I remember what it meant (you’d think after seeing it twice I’d have bothered to tattoo it on my arm or something).  Needless to say, I know it now and use it as often as I can, maybe my way of “sticking it to the man”.  I know I’m a real badass.

Just in case my tired little mind thought of forgetting what it meant, tomorrow will actually be a perfect and perfectly sad juxtaposition.

I have been dreading this Sunday since the day Jack died.  Sunday’s in general are not kind to my heart; they mark another week passing without my boy.  But this Sunday being Mother’s Day seems substantially rougher than any other thus far.  Aside from tomorrow being a day celebrating moms, it is the day my journey down the path of motherhood began.  Kennedy Egan was born, May 10^th, three years ago.  So once again I will be straddling two worlds, living through one of the sadder days in my life, which falls on one of the happiest days of my life. 

To say I have been dreading Kennedy’s birthday makes me sound and feel like an awful mother; and yet, there you have it.  It’s not that I didn’t want to celebrate my baby girl’s big day, quite the opposite.  She quite literally is my reason for getting out of bed every morning and so, truly, I celebrate her every moment of every day.  Her first two birthdays were pretty big, in terms of a baby/toddler party.  Earlier this year I was busy pinning party ideas for this year’s bash but when my life took a sharp turn and was upended, planning her birthday party was the furthest thing from my mind.  But the day was coming quickly and so Sean and I decided we’d just keep it small and have cake here at our house with our local family, my sister and her family and Sean’s mom and step-dad. 

Originally we planned to have it on her actual Sunday birthday but I knew I would be having a rough day and so I let myself off the hook a bit and moved it to today.  As it turns out though, Sean’s step-dad is out of town and my brother-in-law had to work so her small party got even smaller.  We set up the pool, bounce house and bubble fish (hand to God, it is the best $12 investment one can make at Wal-Mart) and just like that it was a party.  The kids had a great time, ran themselves ragged, surely earning their night’s sleep, never once even tattling on each other! We had a small BBQ, ate a delicious cake made by Baba and sang happy birthday to a little girl who, no joke, proclaimed to the table, “this is the best birthday party ever.”  And that right there is how I am still here.  She is able to take what little I have to give these days and still love me and know she is loved more than anyone can fathom.  And so even though me and my broken heart are exhausted, to have made her day in the smallest of ways makes it tiny bit easier to push through. 

Today was a good day. 

We celebrated our girl a day early in anticipation that tomorrow may be a little more than I can bear.  The plan is to get up and bring flowers to Jack’s grave and spend a little time with the boy who took a chunk of my heart with him to heaven.  And that’s it.  That is all I can plan for right now.  I am giving myself permission to be a mess and to maybe do nothing more than that.  I did plan to go to church but I don’t know if can or want to.  The truth is, today I feel a little pissed off with God.  I’m angry that, as a mommy, I am dreading tomorrow.  I am angry that I will never feel as happy on Mother’s Day again, as I was the first 2 years as a mom.  I am angry that, no matter what attempt is made by my husband and daughter to make the day special, I will feel that something is missing and hope with all of my heart that it does not hurt them.  I’m mad.  And so I’d like to think I’m being given a pass from mass tomorrow.  The goal is just to survive tomorrow; and to hope that after tomorrow ends the ache in my heart I’ve felt so acutely these last few days will return to the “normal” ever-present, dull pain that is there since January.

 To my mother, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, aunts, sister and friends that have become family: Happy Mother’s Day.   Thank you to all of you for showing me the ropes of this whole mothering thing and for holding my hand as I misstep and find my way. While I may be in somewhat unchartered territory this I know:  Loving your children is a universal phenomenon.  And as a grieving mother on Mother’s Day this is all I know about tomorrow:  I love my children.  I miss my son.  And I pray my daughter will feel as loved as she is.