Today is Mother's Day and it is the best one I have had since my mother died. Last year was the first year I felt happy on this day and not quite so sad. I had recently changed my attitude on everything in life and decided to celebrate my mother's life for the first time on Mother's Day instead of crying over her death. I visited her gravesite feeling lighter and happier than usual, drove to work singing my favorite songs with my sunroof open and sunshine streaming into my car, and then pranced into work, truly excited to make so many mothers' Mother's Day's special. I was happy to be surrounded by mothers and families with their moms instead of sad. It was the best and happiest I had ever felt on Mother's Day...until this year.
Just last week I was pleasantly surprised to find out my sister and nephew would be flying in from Georgia for the weekend. I don't remember the last time we were all together on Mother's Day, but it definitely hasn't been since both of my sisters became mothers themselves. I was very excited upon hearing the news and knew that this would be one of the nicest and happiest Mother's Days yet, but I honestly had no idea it would be this nice. Family was a huge part of why today has been so special, as was the nice weather and the presence of the most loving boyfriend I have had yet, but the biggest thing that made me happy today was actually spending time with my mom. Over the past year, particularly as a result of my journey deeper into the world of yoga and teaching yoga, I have learned a great deal about letting go, trusting, believing in something before it can be seen, and meditation, the last of which is what made this Mother's Day so sincerely special.
This morning, after running to the store to grab a few last minute things for my sisters and grandmother, I sat down on the frontporch with nothing besides my self and a cup of coffee. I looked at the hopscotch game drawn with chalk for Alexis and Jacob, and memories of my own childhood came flying back. As I looked around the porch, driveway, and yard, snapshots of precious moments with my mom flashed through my mind. I saw her watching us ride our bikes around the driveway, waiting for us to get off the school bus, asking us about our day over after-school snacks, climbing the tree, playing lacrosse with me, packing up our trailer for Cape Cod each summer, and loading us into the astrovan to take us to school, games, church, grocery shopping, and over to our friends' houses. I looked at the flowers and plants she planted, most of which are still here, almost nine years later. I looked up at the bright blue sky and felt the sun dance over my skin. My smile grew as I allowed countless happy memories sink into my soul with the sun. I then closed my eyes and shifted my focus inward. I turned my mind off, and by not actively thinking of my mother and her memory, I allowed her to actually enter my mind. I felt her, I saw her, I listened to her talk to me, and she hugged me in the middle of an island of blue hydrangeas (her favorite flower). I turned my mind off and tuned my mom in. For the first time since she died, I truly felt like I was spending time with her. I felt peaceful, joyful, and loved. I felt as though I had never lost her. I was reunited with her in my mind, and in my heart, and I realized that it could've always been this easy. And at the end of our conversation, I heard her say to me: "I am always right here. I am always in you, and with you - always." And I kept hearing the words "Thank you." I was left with no words to say to her besides "thank you." "Thank you for wiping every tear, enhancing every smile, guiding every step, listening to every complaint and fear, tending to every bruise, encouraging every idea, telling me every Maryanne & Suzie story, and singing me every bedtime song. Thank you for showing me the closest thing to God's love that I have ever found on this Earth. Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for my life. Thank you for everything. Thank you. And then I heard her say, "Thank you." "Thank you for making me the happiest mother in the whole world. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you for all the love, laughter, and precious memories. Thank you for giving my life meaning, the most meaning it could ever have. Thank you for showing me what is most important in life. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you, and your sisters, for being the reason I died happy." Tears welled up in my eyes as I saw her look me in the eyes and felt her love pour into me. I felt loved, held, cared for, and all warm and fuzzy inside, the kind of warm and fuzzy that only a mother can provide. And as I sat there on my front porch, with my legs crossed and eyes closed in front of the house I grew up in, I realized how right Bikram Choudhury (the founder of Bikram Yoga) really was when he said, "The longest distance any of us ever has to travel to reach Self-Realization is six inches. Six inches lies between mind and heart, between ego and Spirit, between fear and love. Six inches is all that separates us from God." God is in me and in all of us. Spirit is in my mom and me and in all of us, and it connects all of us. There is no death - there is only life. There is only Spirit and Spirit does not die. During my yoga training I studied scripture that says we are all Spiritual beings having a human experience here on Earth. If that's true, which I believe it is, then why should I grieve over the loss of my mother's human body? I only miss it because it was all I knew. But when I close my eye, clear my mind, and enter into Stillness, I connect with Spirit - both mine and hers. I connect with all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. All that has ever separated myself from my mom over the past eight years has been my own mind. Six inches lies between my mind and my heart. Six inches is the furthest distance I will ever have to travel. Today, I walked the path from my mind to my heart and I cannot tell you how glad I am. My heart is happy and for the first time since her death, I felt like I truly "spent time" with my mom. This Mother's Day, I realized not only that my mom is still here, but that she never really left.
As a sidenote, this year was also very special because it was the first one I spent with my boyfriend Shawn. Shawn lost his mom when he was two years old, and as a result, we share a very special bond. I have always been very in touch with my mother's death, and I love talking to Shawn about his mom too. He doesn't have much to say, or many memories, since he was so little when she died, but he has told me that he has a few pictures. I have asked about the pictures a few times but never saw any...until today. Today, Shawn spent a couple of precious hours with me before he had to go into work. He visited my mother's grave with me, sat next to the creek near my house where my mom used to take my sisters and I to play, and then sat on my backporch and shared an album of family pictures with me. As I flipped through one photo after another of his beautiful mother, I realized that despite how different our lives have been and despite the differences between our mothers and the times at which we lost them, there really isn't any difference at all. A mother's love is always a mothers love, and no matter what, it is all-encompassing. He may not have had his mother in his life nearly as long as I did, but he still had all of her love for the two years that he did. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I saw pictures of such a happy baby and such a happy mother. My heart has ached for Shawn ever since I met him, for all the years he didn't have with her, all the missing "I love you's," bedtime stories, lullabies, hugs and kisses, smiles, encouragement, guidance, and unending love. But today, I realized that he had it all too, he just had it for a shorter amount of time than I did. And in that moment, not only did I feel happiness for him that he had so much motherly love surrounding him in his formative first two years, I realized yet again how blessed I was to have my mother for 17. I used to think 17 years was nothing compared to what I should've had her here for, but I always knew how blessed I was to have her for the 17 that I did. Now, thanks to Shawn, I realize just how long 17 years really was. I am grateful for the two years Shawn felt so much love from his mother, and I am grateful for the 17 I had. We are very blessed for all we had and all we still have. Our mothers are not gone, not unless we think they are. They are in us, they are with us, and their love has formed us. Their love brough us together, and now we share such a special and strong love, thanks to them. As we sat there, cuddling with that precious book of photos on my backporch, I felt such strong emotion for Shawn, and so much gratitude for both his mother and mine. What a special Mother's Day it had already been.
So, here's to you Mom, and here's to you Mrs. Muraco. Here's to all the moms that have gone before, to all those still here, and to all those yet-to-be-moms. Thank you for being our first and strongest examples of true love. Thank you for being the closest thing to God's love that we can find here on Earth. Thank you for being God to us, and helping us to see the God in us. We could never express our gratitude in a way that would accurately convey it, but we'll keep trying anyways. Today, and every day, we love you. <3 Happy Mother's Day! <3
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