Looks like everybody came through Mother's day intact. Even the Motherless. Well, maybe. Talked with a friend I've known a thousand years, ok ok not a thousand years, just since the 70s when folk were much nicer... we talked about the feelings that are as close as our hands, as easy as the breath we take without thinking...that loss. And we saw the strength of character Not to go crazy or drugged out in that loss all these years. Some people do not come through the experience so intact. Known her for a thousand years. Love her like a sister I wish I had. So I call her "sister."

Mother's Day comes every year in May. I've thought of doing this blog for about five years. Maybe more. About Mother's Day. For me it's Motherless Day, a scar bruising across my emotional landscape for 50 years. That 50 year "realization" hit me last year. I had to sit down, you know, gather myself. I mean, hey, Fifty years. Fifty (50) years is a long time in the short time we live in life. I cannot put words in my mouth to articulate exactly what that means, or how it works or even how I feel. But I will tell you this: the death of my Mom fifty years ago is as fresh in my memory today as it was on that shocked chilly day in September 50 years ago. I still find myself befuddled about the whole thing.

I figured I will get with the new way we connect in this Internet era. Blog-baby-Blog!

This is not easy. But others are out there stumbling around like me on "Mothers Day" trying to make sense of a loss, that, I've conclude, is only understood by those who know the loss of a Mom. Particularly those of us who loss our Moms when we were little birds, wings yet unformed with the strength to fly, feathers still a soft down, and poof!! Momma dies. I don't know what you do on Mothers Day, but I hunker down, get out of the way of all those "happy Mothers' Day" salutations thrown around so recklessly, you know, because, actually, I am not so happy today.

Last Tuesday I woke up from sleep at around 3:10 AM with the thought, "daggonit Sunday is Mother's Day. Sh*! that again." For the rest of the week I braced myself. As though holding on to a branch to keep from falling, the muscles in my arms stiffened when I thought about the upcoming Mothers Day. "Start The Blog" kept coming to mind. My spirit swirled around me, through me and in me that the Time is now. My clock is ticking. Might be able to help yourself by writing about it, and help others to. What I do know is this: mother-loss understands mother-loss. That's just what it is. No right. No wrong. Just understanding. Just mutual agreement of the unbelievable loss of growing up without a Mom.

I had a woman friend once who would get angry at me on Mothers' Day, you know, because I would be in an uncomfortable mood. Guess I was kind of moody. An emotional funk. But the truth is (or a truth was) I just could not pretend and go along with the whole Mothers' Day stuff. Her Mom was very much alive and in my motherless indignation (if you understand where I'm coming from), I thought she and her big family failed miserably in showing daily appreciation except for that holiday.   Hey, my Mom was dead. I mean dead dead dead. I was nine when she died.  Heck, I'm still pissed off about it (now that I think about it). But not pissed off like highly upset or furious, just kind of like, come on now Mom, couldn't ya' just have stick around for a little while longer. That kind of piss off.

One way I did help myself was starting this Blog. Another thing I did was send a text to a woman I knew quite well about five to 6 years ago. Our birthdays were on the same day. Special.  We knew each other well for about 2 1/2 years.  We are still good friends today and talk to each other about every two months.  Her Mom was also dead, so you see the double bond we have. I texted her and thanked her for the best Mothers Day I ever experienced with her years ago. On that day, we hung around each other, we cooked lunch and dinner and marveled in a most quiet, peaceful day with each other. Talking. Sharing. Just understanding without judgement or opinions or attitude about who we are, or how we were being, on something called Mother's Day. Both our Moms died when we were young. Woman was deep. Woman was lovely. I should have kept her. I thanked her for the memory of that special Mothers Day when we, two of the Motherless, were for each other. And I meant it with the deepest humility and respect.. She texted me back, telling me my text touched her heart. What a friend!

Purpose of Motherless Day blog

-          share and explore range of feelings that death of mother generates

-          create space for the Motherless

-          discuss, write about, welcome feedback from others on the uncomfortable topic of a mother’s death and its effect on the emotional view of the world of a man, young man, growing boy, or woman, young woman, growing girl

-          allow myself to do some thing that matters

-          allow myself to be myself

-          allow myself to contribute myself to the world

-          allow myself to live authentically

-          give Voice to the Motherless whose Moms left when young, especially young, and for all

 I do not know where this Motherless Blog is headed. But let's enjoy the adventure.

Bill Curtis