Mother’s Day is a tough one. Dread begins seeping in to me weeks beforehand, building steadily. The thought of it drains my energy and knots my body with anxiety.
Last year, I spent the entire day before Mother’s Day in bed, sleeping, eating potato chips, and playing Candy Crush to still my heart and numb my mind. I wanted to go to bed and wake up to Monday morning, ready for work. A Monday work day was infinitely preferable to the terrible tomorrow ahead of me: my first Mother’s Day without my son, Tristan.
What the fuck was I to do with Mother’s Day now? …
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