Sunday, May 14, 2017
Happy Mother's Day!
As the pursuers of family history, we've documented a lot of information on mothers. Mothers of mothers of mothers, in fact. In the long line of human relationship, every generation brings us yet another mother to add to the pedigree—and learn of her life's story.
Today, as it is a special day for people to be out, doing special things with family, I was going to post a picture of some flowers—I love to look at beautiful flowers—and simply leave a brief sentiment about the holiday, but I couldn't get one thought out of my mind. I couldn't help thinking of my own mother, for three particular details.
For one, Mother's Day, itself, of course—but there were other reasons. My mother's own birthday was close to the middle of May, and invariably fell right on Mother's Day, presenting her with the grown-up version of the child's predicament of having a birthday fall on the most-celebrated gift-giving day of the year, Christmas. There were many such Sundays when we would give my mother her Mother's Day gifts, and then start the celebration up all over again with the traditional trappings for her birthday—all in the same sitting.
There is one more reason I can't help but get pensive about this day, though. Six years ago, Mother's Day was the day I decided to start writing this blog, mostly with the purpose in mind of preserving my years of genealogical research, of course, but also with the intent of honoring my mother, the one who gave me such a rich family heritage.
This year, of course, my blogiversary didn't fall on Mother's Day, but it did lead into that melancholy mood of remembrance this past Monday—and capped it off with my mother's birthday on Friday. And now today, Sunday, a day to honor mothers. Though I can no longer give her a present or even mail her a card, Mother's Day can still be a day to remember.