Mother's Day

I experienced my first Mother's Day alone. Yes, I know I am not alone. I have an amazingly supportive husband by my side. And the spirits of my children live on around me. However this year, I was childless for all intents and purposes. There were no handmade gifts with thumb prints and photos which have been cherished parts of the celebration. (Side note to teachers: I LOVE that you do this for all moms and dads. Matt's "My Dad Rocks" which is a painted rock with Oliver's photo is one of his favorite things.)

Matt left it up to me and I opted to do an overnight trip to Cape May. It has been such a special place for our family and it felt right to be by the sea. The oceanside was one of Oliver's favorite places and I always feel a connection with him when my toes touch the sand. We booked a night where we stayed in November when we took Oliver for his final beach trip. We stayed in a different part of the Inn, but still felt familiar. I remembered the sweet time we had together, knowing in our hearts that this would his last time seeing the ocean. (He died mere weeks after this photo was taken.)

Mother's Day was dreary and drizzly. The weather reflected my inner turmoil. We lunched and saw families celebrating moms over mimosas and bloody marys. We took a long walk along the water in the wind, pelted by increasing raindrops. We settled into our room, which overlooked the room we stayed in six months prior with our son. We napped. We ate at one of our favorite restaurants and imbibed on delicious red wine. We retired to our room and I wept while Matt slept, as is often our practice.

Every second Sunday in May will carry a new weightiness. Like the ebb and flow of the ocean waves, I will follow where grief takes me.