It’s Mother’s Day. Not necessarily the day I dread the most. It all depends on how the world aligns that year. I remember my first Mother’s Day alone. I simply resolved to do what Harrison and I always did together. He would spend the day gardening with me because it was something I loved to do. We had little matching collapsible seats (yes, I still have them). He would sit on his. I would sit on mine and just relish the time I had, knowing that although being outside is something Harrison loved, I’m not sure gardening with mom counted. Harrison was “good” at Mother’s Day. He knew how to pull it off and there were enough cues in the media and society that he didn’t forget. Quite different from my birthday. Haha. Our last Mother’s Day together, Harrison went in hook, line and sinker. He told me he was taking me to Sizzle and Chill, a local diner that we both loved. He said he knew I was a different kind of mom and going to a fancy restaurant wasn’t my style. He was right. I remember I only ordered loaded fries because I didn’t want it to cost him too much money. How “mom” of me. On the way home, he played “Mom” by Garth Brooks. I had only heard the song once before maybe. It totally teared me up that he had given the drive home so much thought. I cried. He smiled and said, “I did good, huh?” Yeah, Harrison, you did good.
Holding on to Harrison
Wandering thoughts of a grieving mother...
