Mother's Day

Post mortem

I didn’t have to find a brunch reservation this year.

This was the tradition. Carolyn LOVED a good brunch, and she loved trying new places. She was a foodie at heart, and I was always happy to oblige.

It was a firmly established rule in our household that we would have brunch on Mother’s Day, no deviation, but always somewhere new. My task was to find the place each year, and I actually looked forward to it. I would typically start looking in March, reviewing places I thought she would like, and narrowing it down to a final decision. I was always a bit nervous of my choice but she loved every one (at least that’s what she led me to believe!).

She loved Mother’s Day so much, but not because it was a day for her. She just loved being a mom.

In fact, the picture I selected for her obituary is from Mother’s Day (shown below). This picture was taken at brunch on the last Mother’s Day before she found a lump in her breast. The joy in her face, the love in her heart, the belly full of great food and a mimosa or two. This was my Carolyn. In all her sunshine, radiating out to the world.

This day was a day I was dreading. Why did this have to be one of the “firsts”? Why so soon after her passing? I didn’t know what to do. I knew we couldn’t sit around, but I knew we couldn’t realistically celebrate.

I had a fleeting thought a week or two ago that me and the girls would continue the tradition and go to brunch this year.

But how awkward and difficult would that be?

Could anything else be a more effective a way to point out that the girls have lost their mom? How else to make them feel different than to sit in the middle of Mother’s Day brunch with just their dad?

No, that was impossible.

So we stayed home, and I made waffles and goetta. Both were a nod to Carolyn.

The waffles I made from scratch using Carolyn’s recipe (which uses WAY too many mixing bowls Carolyn!). But I admit, they are good.

Goetta is a staple of west side Cincinnati culinary tradition. For those who don’t know what goetta is, it’s a concocted food from long ago Cincinnati German immigrants and is a collection of things. Basically it is a loaf made up of pork meat (note the non-specific body location of said “meat”), oats, spices and other things(?). In the traditional way, you cut the loaf thinly into bread-like slices and sear it until crispy. I’m pretty sure goetta cannot be burned, you can leave that stuff on a griddle for an hour and it hangs in there. I despised goetta initially, but Carolyn wore me down over the years, and now I semi-enjoy it. I digress.

The girls and I had our own little west side brunch, quietly at home, with an open chair.

In the afternoon, we went to the cemetery to visit Carolyn. It was the first time the girls have been back since she was buried. It was a perfectly beautiful day. I was weepy, but the girls mostly asked questions and were otherwise quiet.

We bought a large bouquet and split them into two. I picked up two vases which allowed each girl to give flowers. Another tradition of ours was to buy Carolyn hanging baskets for the deck for Mother’s Day, two every year, one from each girl. This will maybe have to do instead.

For dinner I smoked some ribs and a we got in a game of whiffle ball in the backyard. Both would be fully Carolyn approved.

I have lost both my mom and my wife. Both were too early. Mother’s Day will never be the same for me. I think a lot about my girls and how Mother’s Day will likely be so much harder than it is for me, especially as they get older. To lose mom at such a young age. It is tragic and unfair. I think about my girls being mothers someday, hopefully, if that’s what they want. How will Mother’s Day be then?

Without my mom and Carolyn, I think about the other mothers out there in our lives, and certainly did so yesterday.

My sister, who is such an amazing mom and completely devoted to her kids and family. She has both been by my side and had my back for as long as I can remember. We have been through a lot individually, and together, and share the heartache and battle scars to prove it. Love you sis.

I think about my sister-in-laws, all gifts from Carolyn’s side of the family that have teamed up to form a protective circle around me and the girls. I care for the three of them deeply, and I have lovingly dubbed our group chat “Moms-in-law”.

I think about my mother-in-law, who has been so amazing and supportive to me and the girls. Putting on a brave face in our grief, even though I can’t image her perspective of loss with losing a child.

There are the moms of the community. Mostly moms of the friends of my girls. They have accepted me (not fully, but partially) into their circle, and I jokingly consider myself an honorary mom. There will be an entire post about this someday.

Ultimately, when I think of Mother’s Day, I know that I can’t be a mom to my girls. That will never be my role, and they don’t want that from me. I’m doing the best I can to keep up, but I have no intentions of being a replacement to Carolyn. I am so gratified that there are so many women (listed above, and others) that are gifts to us. They have silently or openly offered to be a sliver of a mother figure to the girls. Having trustworthy female mentors to my girls as they grow into young women is so important, if not essential.

I’m grateful for all you moms out there. Raising kids is not easy, life is not easy. You are all so important and special. Keep being you. You all deserve your day. I hope your day was the best. You deserve it.