It’s Okay

It’s nearly noon on Mother’s day 2025 and I’m at Parkview Regional Medical Center.

It’s okay.

I’m not here for anything health related.

I’m just here on the second floor sitting in a comfortable chair just down the hall from their chapel, with my laptop to do some writing and reflecting.

Yesterday at church with my wife we heard our Pastor-Elect share this weekends message that included an acknowledgement that while Mother’s day is usually portrayed as a joyful celebration of thankfulness to Moms, for many, it can be a mixed bag too.  (There is a similar sentiment with Father’s day too.)

My wife of 24 years and I had just one parent living when we met, a quarter century ago.  Our Moms.  And within a few years both our mothers had passed too.

Today, I started my Sunday as usual with a special twist.  Most Sundays I leave the house and head out for breakfast at a local coffee shop and then do some exploring of our city, snap a few pictures, find a place to sit with my laptop (like I am right now), and do a combination of work prep or personal stuff while also running some errands like grocery shopping.

The twist today is with it being Mother’s day, I gave Kathy a card with a couple of her favorite things before leaving the house.  Right about now, she should be visited by her son and one of his sons for a couple of hours and his gift to his Mom is to help her with some weeding at the house and time together.  I’ll be back home earlier than usual for a Sunday as I have a seafood meal planned: Linguine Tutto Mare.  The menu from Casa’s describes is as: The ultimate seafood pasta – succulent shrimp, crabmeat, mussels and clams accented with sautéed mushrooms with a light butter sauce; bread and salad.

As much as I’m looking forward to that dinner today, as my mouth is watering right now, let me get back to the other stuff I felt compelled to write about right now.

Mother’s day 1998.

My Dad was laying in a hospice bed, it was his final week on this planet.  He was just 67, I was 38.  The day before, as a divorced Dad living about an hour away out of town, I brought his three grandkids for a visit.  We talked to him, and prayed with him. He was unable to speak but could answer with a gentle squeeze of the hand.  I left in his room a Mother’s day card and rose that he could give to my Mom when she visited the next day.

They visited on Sunday May 10th for the last time and we got word the next day that my Dad passed away Monday May 11th.  I believe he hung on through that weekend and waited until he was alone so none of us would witness his passing in person.

That summer of 98, I moved back to the house I grew up in to help my Mom downsize and prepare for a smaller place.  Originally, I thought it might be 3 to 6 months. Turns out it was 3 years.

It’s okay.

On one hand the reason it took longer is because with my living there, the urgency was not there.  My parents took care of one another with each of them having different health issues, and my being under the same roof again enabled my Mom to be able to stay longer without my Dad.

The urgency didn’t return until I remarried in 2001 and now my Mom was on her own.  I lived just a mile away, but she was determined not to be in that house alone during the winter.  It would have been challenging, so that year we finally got her moved with a few new things in her new place, a bunch of stuff in storage, and a lot of it given away, sold or tossed.  Halloween 2001 was her last day there and first night at her new two bedroom-with-attached-garage-single-floor-apartment.

Then life happened again on Thanksgiving day when I went to pick her up and bring her over for our family meal.

I discovered she passed away the night before.  Her life in her new place was just 3 weeks long.

Losing one parent is hard.

Losing both of them is worse.  I was just 41.  An adult orphan is what I felt like.

All of that started 27 years ago and it’s okay.

I rarely visit their grave, but did this morning to snap a picture again.   I drive by my old childhood home monthly because that’s where the memories were made, not the cemetery.

My Dad’s parents passed away before I was born.  My Mom’s dad and step-dad passed away when she was a young girl.  I have a cousin who is the mom of two sons but only one is still with us.  My first wife’s parents have passed too, years ago.

We’re blessed to have had relationships and memories with these people and while we still grieve the losses and miss them, it’s okay.  All of it is okay.

I have friends who were not raised by both parents.  I’ve seen them struggle and thrive, just like the rest of us.

It’s okay to miss those people on Mother’s day, Father’s day, any day.

One thing I urge you to do is to not ignore, neglect, or take for granted the people that you still have, that you can reach out to.  Even if it’s been awhile, if it’s been too long, if there are hurts or distances, set that aside for a moment and reconnect to let that person know they are on your mind and heart.

In hindsight, having 3 years with my Mom after my Dad passed away was a blessing that I didn’t realize in the moment.

One last item that was shared at our church this weekend is how a mom lost her son when he was just 29 years old.  He was a drug addict.  They said those words in church, clear as you just read them.  His Mom took her grief and well, here’s what was shared:

Many in our Holy Cross family remember Kyle Joseph Conroy—his energy, his creativity, and his presence among us as a child and young adult. Kyle, son of Julie Conroy, passed away unexpectedly in January of 2023 at the age of 29. This spring, Julie is graciously sharing a collection of Kyle’s artwork with The Garden for a special exhibition titled Ink & Absence, on view May 21 through June 15.

The opening reception will take place on Wednesday, May 21 from 6–9 PM during The Garden’s May Night Market, a community gathering that will also include live music by Gracie Jo and DJ J Tubbs, live painting by local artist BonJo, food trucks, artisan vendors, and drinks.

This event will also feature a special visit from HOPE for the Family of an Addict (formerly Moms of an Addict)—a support ministry that exists to walk with those who love someone struggling with addiction. Their presence offers a quiet but meaningful invitation for families who may feel isolated in their pain to begin seeking community, healing, and hope.

As a church family, this is a chance to show support for Julie, to honor Kyle’s life and artistic gifts, and to offer a spirit of compassion to all who are silently carrying similar struggles.

Fortunately, we are all multidimensional, defined not by just one thing about us.  Along with our flaws, we have positive traits too.  Same can be said about our relationships.

And it’s okay.