Mothers Day (Devoid of Sentiment)

Mothers Day was one of those holidays we were commanded to make a 200 mile round trip to pay homage to my mother. For years and years and years and years......................like a prison sentence.

Actually we were commanded to do this for every holiday you can think of. Including Palm Sunday.

Who the fuck celebrates Palm Sunday? My family did.

There was no sensitivity in my heart on mothers day. Partly because celebrating the day was an obligation motivated by fear, not joy. Partly because of the kind of mother my mother was. To me, anyway.

I was the disappointment, my brother was the golden boy. That's a story for another time and place.

I have one burning, specific memory of a mothers day. I realized at the last minute I had no present for my mother, mainly because I did not care so I did not plan ahead. I ran out to get one. In Henniker. Henniker is a very small town. There is nothing worthwhile to buy in Henniker. Nothing.

I bought some cheap candle fucking thing and was done with it.

When my mother unwrapped it she hit the roof. She went ballistic complaining how cheap and thoughtless the gift was. Can you imagine that? She could have taken the high road, you know, it's the thought that counts. But she didn't. She went right for the jugular.

Admittedly, it was a cheap piece of shit. A pet rock would have been a better gift. But isn't a mother supposed to be sensitive to her kid's emotions? Not my mother.

That incident sums up perfectly her view of the world. And of me. That intensity of disgust and disappointment was directed at me many times over until I escaped into marriage.

Mothers Day now is sacred. It means something. Because Carol is the woman that the Mothers Day holiday was created to celebrate.

She raised our sons with sensitivity and intelligence and intuitiveness and gentleness and perceptiveness and empathy and LOVE. My sons were and are the entirety of my heart and soul and existence and it killed me to be away from them all the time working jobs that ripped my soul open to bleed.

When I was studying for a Masters Degree (which I never completed) at night I would get home after they had gone to bed. I would grab a beer and sit on the floor in the dark in their room. Many times I would sit on the floor in the dark in their room and silently cry. That's how much I hated to be away from them.

But Carol was there for them every day all day. There could be no better protector and teacher. I was 100% comfortable knowing she was in charge of taking care of my sons.

To this very fucking day Carol will tell me about something Keith would do or say or Craig would do or say that I know nothing about. Because I was not fucking there. This kills me every time it happens. There are pieces of my sons' lives that I was never a part of. I die when I think about that.

But Carol was there. And thank god for that.

Mothers Day is for Carol.

Not my mother.