It is the anniversary of my mother’s death. This day shall pass. And while it does, here is what I wrote last year.

26 years ago today my mother passed away.
If I met her today I would ask her to tell stories about herself. I would want to know all her favorite things. I would ask her who she was and how she met my dad and how she gave birth to me and how she mothered me. I would soak it all up, her face, the sound of her voice, the smell of her curled hair, what it feels like to be hugged by her. So that I would have visceral memories of her.

If I met her today I would tell her that I am still grieving. As the four year old who lost her mother in a car accident that became one of the clearest memories of her early childhood. As well as the 30 year old who is raising her children without her own mother.

If I met her today I would tell her that I long to connect with her spirit, but that I have a hard time finding her, because I don’t remember her.

If I met her today I would burst from the love for her that I have been bottling up for three decades. The love that I have for her is so big that it hurts and yet I stuff it all into my fist sized heart.

And when I meet her today through the roses that I will smell; through the special bird that will visit me; through the pictures of her that I will look at, her spirit will let me know that the love that seems too big is exactly the place where I can find her. It’s the love a mother has for her children.

Some things have changed since then. Others haven’t. I still miss my mom, some days more than others. And I realized this past December that the greatest struggle isn’t the loss, but the fact that I cannot remember her. This seems like an even bigger loss, because there is no healing for that. I will never remember my mom. I can knit all the sweaters and smell all the roses and see all the birds, but I will never know who she was. That’s heavy.

Being away from my family and my mom’s grave and most pictures of her has added to the heaviness of this day. In order to make it a little lighter and add a ceremonial flair, my daughter and I started to make May Garlands last year, a tradition I intend to keep alive every year.