Mother’s Day is rough for some of us. A day adorned with the scent of flowers and the thrill of children rushing to adorn their moms with gifts and breakfast in bed.
For those of us who have bid farewell to our moms and those of us that find ourselves without children to call our own, this day can be a painful reminder.
As a medium, my awareness of the realms beyond the tangible world often brings both solace and sorrow.
Mother’s Day amplifies this dichotomy, as I am confronted with the absence of my own mother in a world that reveres maternal love.
Memories, can be like shards of glass piercing my heart. They weave themselves into my thoughts – moments of shared giggles, my mom’s guidance, and unconditional love. Alongside these memories stands the reminder that such moments are now relegated to just my memories.
In the silence of Mother’s Day morning, I find myself drawn to my ethereal connection I maintain with the departed.
It is a connection that transcends physicality, a lifeline of love that stretches beyond the confines of mortality. And yet, even as I grasp onto this knowledge, my heart aches, a testament to the irreplaceable bond between my mom and myself.
There is a tender beauty in the way Mother’s Day invites reflection, urging us to honor the legacies of those who have shaped us.
As a medium, I find solace in the knowledge that our loved ones continue to exist in another form. Signs from heaven come close —the passing scent of Chanel No. 5, or a visit from a cardinal in the yard.
It is a knowingness that offers comfort amidst an ache, a reminder that love transcends the boundaries of where I am at this moment.
On Mother’s Day, I hold space for both sorrow and gratitude. I acknowledge the complexities of navigating this strange world where the ones we love exist beyond the reach of our arms. I carry with me the echoes of that love — a timeless tribute to the moms who reside not only in memory, but in the essence of who we are.
