May be a downer

My mother sent me a card for my birthday. It is one I will probably cherish forever. She told me all the things that I needed to hear from my mother. All those words of praise, hope, and love.

My mother and I have had a somewhat rocky relationship the past 12 years.

See this weekend would have been my parents 35th wedding anniversary.

And when their marriage ended 12 years ago, our family and its dynamics were rocked. One such relationship that took a huge hit was mine with my mothers as I became the parent to her. As I fielded broken hearted late night phone calls, had her and the siblings at home move in with me until she found a place to start over, I was also trying to balance my own way to deal with what just shook us all to the very core. Combine that with the fact that my own marriage and new child were in its infancy at the time, and it was a very tumultuous time.

For the most part I would say that I have dealt with it.

But right now listening to Josh Groban (mom's favorite and who we saw together in concert around this time several years ago in the venue that was called the Delta Center at the time) it hit me that as siblings, we aren't planning a surprise trip to send them on. We aren't texting to make sure dad has a gift ready or a dinner reservation made.

We could have been doing all that. Part of me wants to scream that we SHOULD be doing all of that.

But we ARE coordinating hotel rooms to Ben and Katie's wedding. We are getting together very soon in my old stomping grounds of the East and where Carter was born (Delaware). We are buying dresses and finding lavender ties, and figuring out who gets the window seat on the *gulp* 10+ hours on the plane it is going to take to get us there.

So I will brush my tears, for they are there, and once again say good bye to the "might have beens" that crop up once in awhile, and focus on moving forward and being grateful for my own marriage, children, new sister in law and family that ALL love each other very much.

Still.

Always.

Forever.