Mother’s Day After Divorce

Mother’s Day Redefined

Today I wake with a pain so silent and heavy. The pain still surprises me and once again, I wasn’t expecting it. One would assume that after 7 months of celebrating holidays as a single woman, I would begin to expect the hurt that arrives with each one.

That hasn’t happened yet.

Each first holiday after my divorce creeps up quiet and unsuspecting. But the moment the sun rises and you open your eyes, you feel the depth of the pain you are about to ensue for your next waking dozen or so hours.

They always say the first year is the hardest. Some even say it takes three. Yeah, wrap your head around that…three years to recover from divorce. I am barely making it through the first.

I thought of myself as brave for choosing a better life. I knew the one I was living was not meant for me and so I needed to go out and find it. Little did I know that was the easier part. The hardest part where my strength and brevity was going to be called to attention had not even arrived yet. And I was going to have to muster up some superhero-like strength.

The most difficult part is now, this week, this month, this year. The difficult days don’t seem to stop coming and I’m not quite sure when they will relent.

Today it arrives, Mother’s Day. It came again unsuspecting and hushed, but hits like a head on collision. And so, I count my blessings to help me walk through the pain. I count my children, my mother, my brother, my sweet home. I count my health, my strength, my best girlfriends and my guy. And as I count, I start to smile, but I still cry.

And as the tears stream, my little girl runs into my room and she pauses. She sees me and after reading my expression she knows what’s happening… and so she screams, “Vinny!!! Christian!!! Mom is happy crying again!!!” And then she hugs me and runs off to the next little endeavor that little girls do. I happy cry a lot. I’m not quite sure this was one of those times (and I’m still at a loss for words to describe what a happy cry is) but I’m glad my daughter thought this was one of those times.

And as I lay in my bed, with the windows open and the morning sun shining through the shutters, I count another blessing. I suppose the beauty that comes after you are brave enough to walk through the pain is a blessing. It has to be because it teaches me there is hope, there is happiness, and there is love in the next chapter. And that feeling, is perhaps what creates a happy-cry.

 

 

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