Chelle Summer

A Mother's Day Message

pamela zombeck

Friday morning I went out to run errands– the day I typically hit the grocery store and places like Target. Everything was busier than usual when I remembered it was Mother’s Day weekend. At Target, the greeting card aisle was particularly busy; all of it– and the constant commercials on the radio and television about buying gifts for mom– are a reminder that my mom is no longer here.

Her birthday is this coming Thursday, the 12th, marking the end of a two months of death anniversaries, my parents’ anniversary, and their birthdays as well as my younger sister’s birthday. To say I’m a little worn out emotionally is an understatement.

I have tried to make plans on Mother’s Day– one year hosting a brunch for the family and extended family of a group of people close to me– but I am also reminded of Mother’s Days gone by. We always went to my maternal grandparent’s house and it seemed like my mom never had the card ready or a pair of “nylons” that didn’t have a run so we had to make a stop at Osco on our way to the tollway. Mother’s Day meant pie, too. Someone always had to pick up the Poppin’ Fresh (now Baker’s Square) pies to make sure there was enough for everyone.

My life is good, it really is, and I do focus on the good, on knowing they are with me. But it’s sad at times and the constant reminding– although materialism at its best– leaves me feeling somewhat empty.

Friday night we had a booth for my Chelle Summer bags at the Girls Night Out Event that benefitted the local Ronald McDonald House. On my left wrist I wore a bracelet of my grandmother’s that my mom gave me and on the right I wore one of my mom’s funky sixties bracelets. Tomorrow will be a quiet day at my house, filled with some much needed rest, but Friday night I honored both my mom and my grandma by taking them with me as I took Chelle Summer public in a new way for the first time.

That’s my Mother’s Day this year.