A Short Lament for Mother’s Day

We took flowers to the graveyards around this time, just a year ago. Who could have foreseen that this year I’d be without you—and grandma too?

Who could have foreseen you’d both be where we stood then—buried. Silent. Absent.

Me least of all.

Spring invades the air and I can’t help but think —wish, hope, long for— you should be here.



I didn’t celebrate you, you know. And I surely should have. I was too focused on my annoyance,

my bitterness,

my hurt

to appreciate our moments, our last though unknown to me at the time.

It’s Mother’s day and now I see that every day in the year should have been your day.

I went to see you today but it wasn’t the you I knew and it certainly wasn’t the same.

You’ll never walk upon this earth again, just lie beneath it, so cold….so unlike you.

No more will the summer breeze carry your laughter to me as I sit under the sun in our front yard, surrounded by your flowers as much as your love.

Your voice will never be on the other end of a phone call; your arms no longer open wide.

Mom. How little I’ve said that word these past months.

I say “mother” now more than ever. Mom is too personal, too real. It embodies my reality now, my reality without you.

“Mom.” It’s what I always called you. But I don’t want to speak it, knowing you can’t answer me when I ask where some silly little item is.

There’s so much more to say; there’s so much more to do.

And all of it must be done apart from you.

Travelling and planning and learning and growing and moving and schooling.

All of it without your input, without you asking “whatcha up to?”

But in His amazing way, the Lord is holding me steady and true. I’m not lost without you, Mom, but I yearn for you to take a few more steps of my journey with me. To lace up the back of my wedding dress. To listen to my frustrations. To be my mom.

But that’s not what He’s given and He knows best. I delight in His will more than I delighted even in your smile (and that was a lot, though I don’t think I ever told you.)

So all that remains is simply to say: Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Wake up morning bright. Do what’s right. With all your might.

The way we used to do.

I love you. I miss you. And grandma too.

Your youngest,







2 thoughts on “A Short Lament for Mother’s Day

  1. WW you are a gifted word weaver, and that without any discernible guile. I am encouraged and blessed by your zeal for the Lord and see myself only a few hundred years ago in the same places.Keep on Keeping on!!! He is faithful and merciful and will place someone in those painful places in your heart to soften the loss and it will be Himself. Ready yourself for the ride of your life as He fills in all that once was precious to you and becomes more precious yet to you. Your Bridegroom, s
    who laces up all your white garments and will restore to you all that has been lost, one day. Grace to you.


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