In the year 2006 … Mother’s Day was on May 14.

My Mother passed away the day before.

About four years earlier, I had lost my Father.

So on May 13, 2006, my younger brother and two sisters were suddenly cut from the ties that bore and nurtured us from the beginning of our lives.

I have discussed this “separation” with others who have lost both parents; we all feel “lost” in a way that we never had before the death of the last surviving parent.

I have a friend who is experiencing this for the first time; her father passed years ago, but she lost her mother shortly after Valentine’s Day this year. My prayers are with her as she goes through this day.

This year as I was searching for a Mother’s Day card for my wife, I almost instinctively picked up one from the category: For Mom, From a Son.

It’s been 14 years, but for some reason, this year Mother’s Day hit me a little harder. Maybe I’m relating to that friend who for the first time, won’t be able to share this day with her mother.

I have a confession.

In the past, I would often be scrambling to get a Mother’s Day card in the mail in time and get flowers or some gift delivered on or before that day.

I hate to say it, but sometimes, I probably looked at it as a chore … or maybe an assignment that had to be completed in time.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do these things for Mother, but I have to admit that many times, perhaps I didn’t put my heart into it.

In other words: It’s Mother’s Day — you take her to dinner, or if you live far away, you call, send a card, maybe flowers or a gift. You do it because you love her and want her to know, but you also do it as a routine.

Since Mom entered God’s Kingdom, I realize that I took Mother’s Day … and so many other days with her … for granted.

If only just for this Mother’s Day … I could see her, take her to lunch … or just call and hear her voice.

Even though my heart is heavy, I’m suddenly smiling as I write about calling her.

I know how the conversation would go.

As she always did, Mom would almost immediately ask me: How’s your weather, Larry?
And then she would begin telling me about her weather.

I can only imagine the beauty of her “weather” on this Mother’s Day.

(Love you Mom.)