On this day every year since my mother died, I am filled with the sharp edges of missing her.
Mom was the glue of the family. We all came home for holidays and gathered around the table laden with familiar favorites she made especially for each of us.
When were were growing up, Mom made most of our clothes. I loved how she would invent things when necessity met with her whimsy. Mary and I were growing fast and our favorite skirts became too short. Mom cut them about six inches above the hem, inserted wide lace and sewed it back together--a fabulous new style.
She made Easter baskets for us even after we were grown and married. And she worried over us as only mamas do with unconditional love.
On this day I light a candle beneath her picture and place a note there telling her how much I love her, miss her and then I update her on the news.
I know that even if I just whisper it out into the great universe that she'll hear me when I say, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I will love you always."