I have empathy for the quiet and awkward woman who carried and birthed me. It wasn’t always that way, but I understand more now. Forty weeks wasn’t enough, but it was all that we had. In losing her I learned to grieve in guilty silence the loss of something I never had. I’m an expert now.
Twenty-five years wasn’t enough either. Losing my second mom helped me find courage, the kind that comes when it’s the only thing that remains. The trajectory of my life changed when I stood in her dining room, with my swollen eyes on her empty green jacket slung over the back of a chair, and began the process of dismantling lifetimes. I still ache with missing her.
I was a daughter for such a short tIme and this day has always been one of melancholy. It’s all of those other things too—gratitude, hope, lilacs, looking ahead, and phone calls. But permit me a moment, maybe more, to honour my mothers. Long gone, always missed.
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In honour of Mother’s Day the Kindle version of my memoir, Two Hearts, is on sale for 99¢ this weekend.