Mother's Day Number Five Without Mom - It Never Gets Easier

Article first published as Mother's Day Number Five Without Mom - It Never Gets Easier on Blogcritics.

I've heard it said that time heals all wounds, and I am willing to believe in that, but it is not working for me at this point. This is my fifth Mother's Day without my Mom, and it doesn't feel any different than it did the first time I had to live through this day without her; in fact, it may be getting even harder for me.

Even though Mom has been gone all this time, she is still a presence in my life. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her, miss her, and wish she were with me. In the past I took for granted being able to pick up the phone and call her from work. Now I still get the urge sometime to do it. When my two-year old son puts words together in a sentence, I want to dial her number and tell her, "He just said 'I don't want to sleep.'" I miss being able to do that.

I do take comfort in Mom's presence though, and I believe she is with me all the time. I think she is watching my kids as they do their little amazing things, and I feel she is with me when I am going through the rough days as well as the good ones. Knowing she is there is comforting, but I really would rather be able to throw my arms around her and kiss her.

As I do every year, I brought flowers to her grave. Standing there and staring at the tombstone, I am stronger now than I used to be. In the beginning I couldn't stop crying and had a hard time saying a prayer. Now, I still get misty, but I am stronger. That doesn't mean it is any easier because it's not. I feel like I need her now more than ever in my life.

I still have my Dad and he takes comfort in knowing I visit Mom's grave, but the truth is I know she is not there. She is with me here as I write this, leaning over my shoulder no doubt to see if I am spelling any words wrong. I know she is watching my kids rolling around the floor playing, and I think that she will be with me as I honor my wife on Mother's Day the same way Dad always honored her. I will wish I was hearing her say, "That's my boy," but I'll close my eyes and know her evanescent hand is on my shoulder on this day and all the days of my life.