I Hate This Day

(This is going to be one very unpleasant entry. Consider yourself warned.)


Why do I hate this fucking day? I'll tell you.

Because it's Mother's Day. The third year in a row now (and counting) that I don't have a mother in my life to celebrate it with.

There are other significant dates, of course: The day my parents were married. My mom's birthday. The day she died. A few others.

The difference between them and this day, however, is that I am not CONSTANTLY reminded by every fucking media source imaginable of the significance of those days.

There is no escaping it! Two of of every three TV commercials mention it. Sunday newspaper ads trumpet sales in its honor. Every other comic strip in the Sunday funnies mentions it.

And, of course, everyone takes their mother out to dinner on it. Which is why I avoid any public place like the plague, on this day more than any other.

I realize that the pain may not always be this bad. It's gotten far easier to cope with over the past three years than it was the first year. In time, it may cease to be so painful and I'll remember the good without the bad.

And, of course, it helps to rant about it to you the three readers of this my humble blog. Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. It helped.

I apologize if this entry upset you. But perhaps someday, somehow, someone else who is in the same angry, sad, pissed-off-at-the-whole-world place that I am today will stumble across this entry and realize that they are not alone in this world.

To them I say this:

Take heart, my brother (or sister!). The pain can't last forever. And you'll see her again someday, in a better place.

Take care.

Peace out.