Happy Mother’s Day, and Thank You

“The Best Mom I Could Ask For”

I’ve never been all that great at explaining my emotions.  Usually this is in the context of negative emotions, like grief or loss.  But it’s also in the context of positive emotions, too; I’m not always so great about telling people that I love them, and maybe even less so at explaining why I love them.  But I’m going to try, anyway, since today is a very special day; Mother’s Day.

Well, no, that’s not true.  By the time you read this, Mother’s Day 2020 will have passed already regardless of when you get here, since this’ll be published about two days after Mother’s Day.  But I’m writing it on Mother’s Day, so there’s that, I guess.  I wanted to post it on Tuesday on schedule like usual to try and make it a surprise, too.  Surprise, mom!  Hope you’re reading this, and hope you’re surprised.

I originally had the idea for a post like this last year, when I asked my mom what day Mother’s Day was, and she said something about “why, are you doing a blog post for it?” And I stopped.  And I thought.  And I said, “no, I’m not.”  And then I went and didn’t write a Mother’s Day post.  And I thought to myself later why the hell didn’t I think of that earlier?  Well, it’s been a year in waiting, but I guess now is better than never.  Because I’m finally writing one.

Again, I’m not super sure how best to express my incredibly deep gratitude and love for this amazing woman who made me who I am today.  I don’t think that a blog post could ever really express how much my mother means to me.  Though, then again, neither can flowers and a hummingbird feeder.  So this is worth a shot, anyway.  Mom, without you, I don’t know where I would be.  Although, actually, I have a suspicion.  I might very well be dead.

I guess I’ll get that out of the way first.  Mom, thank you for getting me through high school.  You were my rock the entire time that I struggled with depression and suicidal ideation, and never once did you crack under the pressure.  Your strength of will, your cheerfulness, your willingness to always put others before yourself, helped me get through the hardest part of my life so far.  I know it’s easy to say that you did it because I’m your son, but you’ve done it for other people, too.  I’ve seen it.  It isn’t just for your family; your kindness knows no bounds, and I attribute that to saving me as much as you attribute me to saving myself.  Thank you for getting me through that.  I love you.

Thank you for taking me to Philmont.  As a matter of fact, thank you for tirelessly volunteering your own time so that my random extracurricular activities could be the best possible experiences.  From Boy Scouts to Science Olympiad to the play and musical and even now, you’ve probably put in more time and effort to my clubs than I have.  And you even did it twice, for Nick.  And you’re still involved; being the president of the school board is a thankless job.  But thank you.  I love you.

And, speaking of Philmont, thank you for being so interesting in the environment.  I love to hike and I love to learn about nature, but that all comes from you and dad.  You taught me how to enjoy the outdoors, to take a minute to appreciate the smell of the flowers, to kayak and laugh when it rains or to always see the best in things.  Your unflinching optimism is perhaps the most memorable and magnetic part of your personality; even when you’re feeling down, you always see the bright side of things.  You give people the benefit of the doubt.  And that’s exhausting, and you’ve more than earned the fame that comes with that.  And no one should have to keep that up all the time.  But you do it anyway.  As much for others as for yourself.  And that’s amazing.  Thank you.  I love you.

Thank you for reading to me when I was younger.  I’m a writer now probably because of all those books that you read to me and Nick while we were growing up.  From Harry Potter to Artemis Fowl to The Lorax to Guardians of Ga’hoole or however the hell those goofy-ass books were spelled, thank you for reading to me.  It’s something small, but I know it made a huge difference in my development.  I’m no parent, but if anyone’s looking for parenting advice, here’s mine; read to your kids.  Considering that kids like to scream, that’s probably easier said than done.  Thank you.  I love you.

Thank you for cooking for me.  For all of us, really.  Thank you for keeping the house tidy and organized, even when Cleo was shitting everywhere.  Thank you for managing to find time to keep the house clean, participate in our school activities, spend time with your friends, and advance your career at the same time.  It’s a feat of time-management, ingenuity, strength of will, and determination that I have yet to see replicated in almost anyone else.  Thank you.  I love you.

Thank you for taking us on all these amazing trips around the world.  New Hampshire, Florida, Yellowstone, Costa Rica, Amsterdam, Philmont (twice!), California, Georgia, South Carolina, Paris, and so, so many other places that I can’t even list them all.  Thank you for teaching my brother and I how to explore these places and be citizens of the world.  And how to respect all these different places and to love the people in them.  To accept the things that are different and embrace them.  Because that acceptance comes from you.  Thank you.  I love you.

I told myself that I wouldn’t make this about me when I started writing.  But being as this is my blog, I suppose it was unavoidable that it would be about me.  It’s a funny quirk of humanity that we seem to only view the world in relation to ourselves.  But I think you’ve moved beyond that habit.  You treat the world as if you were just a part of it and not the center; you treat the world as it really is.  And that’s such an amazing, beautiful thing, and I feel like it’s so incredibly rare.  I’m so proud to have you as my mother not just because of how well you raised me and how great you took care of me, but also because of how incredible of a person you are.  I love you because you are my mother, yes, but also because you deserve to be loved.  There’s a reason you have so many friends and so many people like you.  It’s because of you.  And thank you for that.  I love you.

I’m sure you know all of this already.  It isn’t the first time you’ve been told all of this, and I sure hope to heaven that it won’t be the last, because you deserve to hear this every day.  Way more than once a year.  Yes, mother’s day is a day to celebrate all moms and the incredible sacrifices they make for their children every day (and yes, being a parent definitely is one of the hardest jobs around), but you’re the only mother I have, so, statistically speaking, the feelings of admiration that I have for mothers worldwide stems from my admiration of you.  For me, mothers day is about my mother.  The woman who birthed me and raised me and fed me and cleaned me for my entire life, and whose kindness I owe by being to.  Thank you.  I love you.

I could go on and on, thanking you for so much.  No matter how much of it I write, I’m sure I’ll never really get to the heart of it.  Language is weird because as many words as we have for emotions, there isn’t really a great way to express those emotions in their purest forms.  Because their purest forms are, I think, just actions between people.  Small kindnesses, loving words, things like that.  Words are great, I hope to make a living in them, but it’s the people in your life that make it worth living.  And thank you so, so much for being one of these people in my life that make it so worth living.  You’re incredible, amazing, smart, creative, funny, kind, friendly, easy to talk to, fun to be around, a great planner, an awesome chef, compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful, caring, a wonderful human being, a great friend, and a great mom.  Thank you.  I love you.

The list is, at the end of the day, just that; a list.  Words are just words until they’re lived, and you make them live every day just by being yourself.  I don’t think I tell you enough how awesome you are and how much you mean to me, and nothing is ever going to change that.  I hope that at least something of my feelings got across here, and that this isn’t too much sentimental tripe.  Although, if there’s any time to be sentimental (in a good way), it’s when talking about how much you love someone.  And I love you very, very much.  Thank you for being my mom.  Thank you for being my friend.  Thank you for being you.

I love you.