“Are you here to celebrate Mother’s Day?”

The sweet, elderly lady asked me as I held the diner door open for her to exit gracefully. The dining room behind her was brimming with families that were here to give mom a rare reprieve from cooking Sunday morning breakfast.

“Ahh, no…” I laughed. “That is tomorrow for me. I’ll be taking my grandmother out for lunch.”

“Are you a mother?”

“No, I am not.”

“But, you have a mother?”

“Hmmm. Well… not anymore…”

“Oh, no! I am so sorry that I brought it up then!” The lady exclaimed. She looked genuinely remorseful.

“No, no! Don’t be sorry! It is quite alright. I get to take my grandmother out instead. We are going to have a great time.” I put my hand on my new friend’s arm and assured her that I really was alright.

I wish I could tell you how many times that I have seen the look that crossed this lady’s face. It is a mix of regret for asking and sorrow for whatever untold story that I was harboring. I have seen it more times than I can count, yet somehow I still have not quite found a less shocking way to break the news to people who ask. I don’t intend to make the conversation awkward, but more often than not, it is virtually unavoidable.

Mother’s Day used to be a painful one, but I have found that as the years pass by, it becomes increasingly less of a sore subject. It is less of a gaping wound and more of an old bruise that has yet to fade away. (Not that it actually will.) The dim purple splotch is still visible, but contact no longer kindles a wince. It wasn’t always this way, but time and healing have begun to make ground.

It is never easy to lose someone that you love, and it is amazing how the loss of one person can impact the lives of so many people. My mom was the heart of not just my house, but my family. She was the foundation, support beams and insulation- all in one. She was the warmth that we sought on blustery days; the shelter from the rain. She held the light of the sun and all of the wonder of the stars and moon. She was simultaneously celestial and firmly rooted. She was our anchor, yet also the wind that pushed our sails on the course of adventure. She was everything. So, when we lost her, it was like our world had come to a screeching halt. There were some who loved her who never really recovered from her absence.

I was sixteen when my mom passed away, and so much has happened since then that I wish I could share with her. My goals, dreams, concerns. I think of her every single day. I wonder…and hope… that she would be proud of me. I strive to learn from her mistakes and carry on the lessons that she taught. I hope to take the best of her and use it to help form the woman that I am, as well as the woman that I am continuously morphing into. I do catch glimpses of her in my day-to-day in so many ways. More often than not, I hear her words coming out of my mouth. (Particularly when I have lost my temper, if we are being honest…) I also see her in my own determination, outspokenness and sometimes, even in my stubbornness.

My mom was one of the greatest gifts that God could have ever given to me. He has, in turn, given me so many more wonderful gifts by way of the women that He has placed in my path after my mom passed away. There have been so many that have impacted me in ways that most of them will never even know. Some were an open ear and a shoulder to cry on. Some brought the firm words of discipline that I needed in the moment. Some simply prayed for me when I didn’t even know that I needed their prayers. They all, however, deposited a piece of themselves into the fabric that makes up my tapestry. If it had not been for these incredible mentors, I would not be who I am today.

They played just as big of a part as my mom did.

No one will be able to replace my mom. She truly was one of a kind, and while I only had her for a short while, I was truly far more blessed than many others will ever have the fortune to be. I would rather have had her here with me for just sixteen years, and know and feel the intensity of her love than to have a mother for a lifetime that doesn’t love, as sadly, so many have.

So… is it sad that I took my grandmother out for Mother’s Day instead of my mom? Yes and no. It is sad that my mother is no longer here for me to treat to lunch. It is sad that every now and then I still have pangs of jealousy when I see other women my age with their mothers. It is sad that her wonderful life was cut so short. It is not sad, however, that I have the privilege of  still having my grandmother. My grandmother is one of those intricate parts of my tapestry; one of the threads that holds the entire picture together. There will come a day when she too, will exit this life and wait for me on the other side of glory. There will come a day when I will wish for these days back. There will come a Mother’s Day when it will be the “First Mother’s Day without.” But, until then, I will appreciate the time that we have and allow myself to savor the moments that are before me rather than mourn the precious memories that are behind me.

And believe me; they are oh, so precious.

X.O. C.L.Jordan