On July 8th 1995, at around 11.30am in Dunedin Public Hospital, New Zealand, my mum died. She was 56. I didn't make it. I was in the air flying to be with her. I miss her daily. She never met my children nor my niece but the love she showered on my nephew was enough to give The Sister and I all the reassurance we needed to know she would have adored each of her grandchildren. Mothers Day is no different than any other day for missing our mum.
Our Dad is an expert at forgetting birthdays, the fact that The Sister and my birthdays are on consecutive days doesn't even seem to help. But he always remembers Mothers Day and he always calls us to share a moment of collective love for our Mum and recognition of our loss.
Happy Mothers Day. Enjoy and cherish your time with your mother.