Does it ever get easier?

HeartWill there ever come a year when tomorrow doesn’t bring sadness?

Will there come a year when the scale of happiness and mourning is heavier on the former?

Because tomorrow, like every other day, I will relish my daughter’s hugs, kisses, and I love yous and I will cherish the handmade treasures I’m not supposed to know are coming, but in the midst of it all, my heart will still be breaking.

Will there come a year when Mother’s Day is no longer equal parts being a mother and being a motherless daughter and only, or at least mostly, be just about being a mother?

Will I sit in my rocking chair with a grown child and grown grandchildren and young great-grandchildren surrounding me and smile without a trace of pain?

When I am 60 or 70 or 80, if I am lucky enough to live so long, will I be content in the knowledge that I am at an age when children are meant to lose their mothers?

Will it hurt less when she’s not supposed to be here?

Does it ever get easier to reconcile the loss with the gains, the sorrows with the joys, the what is with what will never be?

Because I adore my child more than words can say but I see her grandmother in her eyes and it crushes me that she doesn’t know the light of my mom’s smile or the joyful sound of her laugh.

Because Mother’s Day is that bittersweet place, that time when I’m reminded of what so many others have, that day when jealousy rages through me . . . because why can’t I have mine?

Because it’s not fair and I don’t want to accept it, though I know I have no other choice . . . and some days I want to be normal and some days I want the world to see that this pain has never gone away and as much as I hope one day it will get easier, I somehow don’t believe it ever will.

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