There’s a sense of dread I feel about this particular holiday. I didn’t know it until the night before. I was sitting in my car when I burst out crying. Trying to grasp the concept that I would be celebrated this day for the first time. And it wasn’t the situation that I thought I would be in. I always imagined when I became a mother,  there would be three generations. My daughter, myself, my sister, and our mother.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds but time does make them easier to ignore. My mom passed away almost 9 years ago. With every first or last moment, exciting adventure, challenging situation, or new experience good or bad, I think of her. It’s not always upfront. I go about my normal day, just thinking I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But that sudden shift in my mood, it’s a tornado of emotions barreling towards anyone unlucky enough to cross my path.

My mom passed away almost 9 years ago. With every first or last moment, exciting adventure, challenging situation, or new experience good or bad, I think of her.

When I get in these moods, I don’t want to be around people. I nitpick everything, start arguments. I get mean and isolate myself. Sometimes I catch myself. Feeling heavy and dark thoughts that would concern my family and friends. I sit down and try to figure out what is wrong. That is when it hits me. The reason behind the attitude and withdrawal. The reason behind my skin crawling in a million directions. My mom. I don’t talk about her. People get uncomfortable. So many times can someone say sorry for your loss. Give condolences for a woman they never knew. I get sad. Angry. Cranky. Mean. People get uncomfortable with death. So I don’t bring her up. But days like my first Mother’s Day, the feelings are overwhelming and people are uncomfortable.

I don’t do it intentionally. Once I realize that the storm was brewing and the world was turning gray, I try to reign it in. Reign in all of the emotions I try to keep in 365 days a year.