Another Mother’s Day has come and gone; six to be exact since Tony died. It is still weird to wake up on a day like Mother’s Day without him.

I always take myself back in time to the last one he was alive for. He and the boys picked up the house, emptied the dishwasher, folded laundry, and cooked for me. We shared the load of chores but many times, the inside jobs were the ones that fell to me.  I appreciated that he was showing the boys how to look up and see what needed to be done.

Each Mother’s Day feels a little different. This year, I spent most of my day reading and hanging out with my youngest.

For dinner, I made reservations at a new restaurant I wanted to try. Leaving the suburbs and trying new places around the city is one of my favorite things to do. It can be hard to find someone to join me in those escapades without a partner in my life. So, I saw it as an opportunity to drag the kids out of the house to join me. Afterall, they can’t complain about doing what I want on Mother’s Day. My parents joined us and we had a nice dinner.

On the way home, it finally occurred to my oldest that they hadn’t gotten me anything. He told his brothers he was dropping me off at home and they were going to run an errand. They started to balk before they realized what it was for.

I sort of wish I could have watched them on their Dollar Tree run, trying to agree on a card, and what candle scent is the least offensive. My oldest picked up the tab and even let his younger brothers pick out candy for themselves.

While I don’t need them to buy me something, it does feel nice. More than the gift, I love that they work together and take time out to do it, even if it is at 8:30pm on Mother’s Day. It takes a little bit of the sting out of missing their dad.