Sunday Wounds

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Mothering Sunday is approaching.

Thankfully for me, I bear no scars, but I’m still not keen in it.

I can’t help but think that these celebrations cause more hurt than they do pleasure. Not to mention the fact that over the years, the meaning of this day has been changed to ‘Mother’s Day’, which has nothing to do with the original event. Though I must admit that in the past, I would get irritated at smug customers who would walk into the Christian bookshop where I worked and shout out annoyances about how most of our cards are worded wrong’ and it’s ‘just not right!’.

But maybe there is a good reason for the anger. Those of us who are given flowers, pout because we wanted to be taken out for a meal. Yet some mums who get wined and dined, sit wondering where the box of chocolates are. And the ones who are lucky enough to be fed steak and confectionery, are secretly desiring a vase of fresh blooms. I’m not saying all we mums are spoilt brats, but let’s face it, despite the great handmade cards showing us with 8cm wide mouths, hair down to the floor and no neck, our joy is nothing compared to the sadness of others.
Because….
1. Some children were neglected by their mothers. She left them as a baby, ran off to start another family with a different daddy or just did nit show them love. To her children, this day is like a knife straight through the heart.

2. Similar to number one, some mummys were around, but physically and verbally abused their offspring.

3. Other children are nursing bereavement, as they lost their mother at an early age. They want her back and this day makes them feel cheated.

4. Then there are those who lost their mothers to mental illness or dementia. She is there in the flesh but looks at them as if they were strangers. There will be no fun big meal as her medication times clash with lunch and then she needs to nap. The offspring feels guilt as they know it’s not her fault. But resentment kicks in when they drive past the restaurant sign.

5. Some never knew their mothers at all and are still being passed around foster homes, feeling like they don’t really belong. The sting of classroom card-making is very sharp. Why don’t teachers exercise more sensitivity?

6. Others want to be mothers but infertility is preventing them. How they pine when women are cheered and clapped for the great job they do. They want to be part of that crowd and the fear that they never will makes them feel sick.

7. Then there’s the lady who was a mother, but her child was abducted and murdered. And there’s the woman who spends a lifetime scrutinizing faces in the street, wondering if that is their missing never-found cherub who was so cruelly kidnapped many years ago.

The list goes on and I’m sure I’ve forgotten a scenario.

However, I’m grateful for my own mother and for all my sweet daughter’s carefully wrapped presents. I will treasure them for life. But I can’t help feeling for those who belong to one of the numbers above.

If you are one of them, I am sorry. Sorry that this day is shoved in your face to cause you pain yet again.

Now, I do not mean to make any lady feel guilty for celebrating this special day – enjoy it. I just wanted to see things from a different perspective and honour those who will not be happy on Sunday or in May, or whenever your country celebrates it.

For you, I am truly sorry.

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Link: Mummy Abandoned Me…

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7 thoughts on “Sunday Wounds

  1. You are so right. I never thought about the fact that there are so many others who just aren’t happy and for good reasons too on that day. I used to be one of them for one of those reasons, but thankfully not anymore. Teachers really should be far more sensitive about this day. Bless you, Sharon. xo

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  2. Pingback: Mummy Abandoned Me At The Market | Light-bites For Your Heart

  3. Pingback: How To Not Scream At Your Keyboard | Light-bites For Your Heart

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