My friend Teresa called me last night to see how my Mother's Day was. Very sweet of her, I thought. It wasn't until I got off of the phone that I realized that the reason she was checking on me was because my mom wasn't here for me to spend the day with. And then I had another realization: that this was the first Mother's Day in four years, that I didn't cry.
Not because I miss her less. Not because accepting her loss has become any easier. Not because the pain in my heart has eased in the slightest. I think it is because for the first time, I can see her clearly, in every part of my day. When she comes to me in dreams, she looks healthy, and not sick, as she has for the past 4 years in my sleep. I see her in Phoenix's troubled brow when he struggles with a problem, in Keegan's dark, navy-blue eyes, in Ty's delight at the smallest surprise. I see her when I look at my own hands. When I hear the love for her in her sisters' voices, and in the mannerisms they share with her. I see her when I look in the mirror.
So, although I lost my mother to cancer, I have found her again. She is all around, every day. And I think that that's a reason to smile, instead.