It is Mother’s Day. Many have sent me their thoughts and well wishes as this is the ‘first’ Mother’s Day without Mom – a day that is evidently harder than most.

Except that it isn’t. Not really. Friday was worse. Friday was my sister’s birthday. We went for lunch. Without Mom. We had coffee and doughnuts at my sister’s house. Without Mom.

I stopped by Mom’s house on the way to my sister’s, to check on it and pick up mail. Mom doesn’t live there anymore. It doesn’t smell like her. Her things are gone. The life that was hers is missing from the house. I no longer need to call out ‘It’s just me!’ as I let myself in the front door.

For many, many years, I hosted a Mother’s Day brunch at my house for my Mom, my mother-in-law, and my step-mom, and usually, it was a co-celebration as my sister’s birthday usually falls within a couple days of Mother’s Day. Waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, syrups of all flavours, whip cream. Coffee, juices. It was a production. Laughter, noise, a full table of people stretched out in my front room (or squished in my kitchen), the kitchen warm from cooking and so many bodies. Someone would invariably bring flowers for all the Mom’s, so they were scattered about the table, adding pops of colour.

Once I become a Mom in 2008, the brunches became less frequent. It was harder to juggle a toddler and a breakfast for 15 people, even though many people pitched in. Sometimes, it was just my Mom and my mother-in-law. Then, just Mom.

Last year, I went and had dinner with Mom. I didn’t know she had cancer yet. Just that she wasn’t well and she had a surgery coming. Only a day visit. I brought her an insulated cup with a straw, her favourite candy, and a handmade card. She never ate the candy and the cup sat in the cupboard. She didn’t like the straw. We watched the baseball game. Napped, and I picked up A&W. She also had me fix a lightswitch in her bathroom. They kept popping off.

I didn’t know it would be the last Mother’s Day I’d every get with her.

My sister and I were texting back and forth this morning and I had to ask her if today was hard for her, because, I told her honestly, it was no different for me than yesterday.

Mom was just as gone yesterday as she is today. I couldn’t text her during the baseball game on Saturday, and I couldn’t text her today either. While my Facebook is loaded with Mother’s Day wishes, I just feel like it is another day. My Mom is gone. There is a giant, Mom shaped hole in everything I do. But the hole is always there. Some days, it is a vast crevasse, and it feels like it could swallow me whole. Others, it is ever-present, but I know I carry her with me.

So, while I miss her and am sad I didn’t get to text her, call her, and go see her… Those thoughts make me sad many times during the week. Everywhere I turn, there is always that Mom shaped hole that won’t soon be filled.