In response to Mel's post today about tornadoes

(http://www.stirrup-queens.com/2011/05/mothers-day-tornadoes/)

This is my first mother's day with no mothers.  My grandmother died 2 days before mother's day last year. My mother died 9 days before mother's day ten years ago.  The twins I lost at twenty weeks were due (had they survived that long) within a week or two of mother's day.

Last year, my sister celebrated her first mother's day -- the one she had been working (?), trying for for 6+ years -- at the funeral of her last remaining grandparent, our maternal grandmother.

This year is hard. Moreso than usual.  Beyond new therapy and anniversaries, I'm not really sure why. It's quiet. This week has been tumultuous, but today is quiet.  I try to remind myself that I am very lucky to have had the kind of maternal relationships I did have.  As complicated as any, but loving.  I mourn them.  I mourn the frustrations and challenges that come with those relationships.  I know that I am lucky to have had them. I know others whose relationships with their mothers were very different, very difficult, extremely painful.  Maybe that recognition is progress.  Less feeling sorry for myself? Probably not.

(My father called a little while ago; there is always a lot of space when he leaves messages, thinking as he speaks.  He said he wanted to say hello.  He would call later today. I know that he wants to hear that I'm okay, doing something productive, or not really caring.)

I don't. Well, no, I do.  But more than sad, I think, I'm feeling angry.  I'm not sure at whom, though, right now. My new therapist, G, suggested writing a letter to my OB, since I was so angry at him, but it wasn't really cathartic. I tossed around the idea of writing a letter to my body, since I'm hating it, angry at it. But that didn't really get off the ground either. C and I talked about getting a bunch of cheap dishes and glassware and just going somewhere and smashing it all.  Cursing and yelling and crying and all. I don't know.  I'd need someone else there, either doing the same thing or just being there for moral support, or egging me on. Or I could write all the failures, body and otherwise, one to a dish, and smash it. The idea of smashing is satisfying, but I don't know if it would accomplish anything. Or how to work the practicalities.  So, yeah, lots of anger, especially this morning. Now, after a nap, quiet.

Anyway.

As B said in an email yesterday, it's just a Hallm.ark holiday. Both her parents are gone now, and she's navigating new space. This is the first Mother's day without her mom, without her sons' grandmother.  The first anniversary is in a few weeks. I can imagine, but only sort of. 

I don't really know how to end this.  Just thinking.