Mother’s Day

Yesterday was the most regulated, most normal Mother’s Day I’ve had in years—maybe even decades. There was no anger, and I wasn’t running or even trying to run away. There wasn’t even anxiety leading up to it.

My son came out to the living room in the morning and wished me a happy Mother’s Day. That alone made me smile. Then around 2 PM, I was getting ready to make pancakes when he came out and asked me what I wanted for lunch. I said, “I’m gonna make pancakes.” He took the package from my hand, put it back in the cupboard, and said, “You don’t have to cook—what do you want for lunch?”

He bought me lunch and gave me pretty pink tulips. I wasn’t even surprised or shocked—it just felt natural.

My Mother’s Day actually started on Saturday. My daughter drove three hours from Haliburton to bring my granddaughter to see me, and I got to spend the day with her, which was more than I could’ve asked for.

Since Umbriel was born, I’ve usually seen her once or twice a week. Since they moved to Haliburton, it’s been more like once a month, but this stretch was about six weeks—the longest yet. Still, Baby Girl walked right into the house like she always does—like she owns the place. She slowly finds all her toys, but usually starts by rocking and feeding her baby doll. She opens her toy chest and goes through everything one by one, then makes her way to the fridge to fiddle with the magnets.

We fell right back into our usual routine. I never want to lose that. There’s nothing more humanly restorative for me than when we cuddle.

She’s a year and a half now. For Christmas, I bought her a bunch of artsy stuff—pastels, paint, chalk, scrapbooks—things like that. She was still a little too small then, but this visit we spent a good hour drawing and coloring together. She holds the paintbrush and pen well with both her left and right hand. She has patience. She’s such a happy, pleasant child. She reminds me so much of Kayla at that age—easy to please, content.

So my Mother’s Day actually started on Saturday. When Kayla picked Umbriel up that evening, I asked if she was spending the night at her friend’s house, and she said, “No, we just came here for you. Happy Mother’s Day.” Hahaha. We both laughed, but it filled my heart with joy.

Her and I had a nice exchange of words. I gave her a few gifts since her birthday was April 25, and I also gave her something from Umbriel for Mother’s Day.

In that little exchange we had—and even the last time I saw her—there’s so much hope there. So much promise between her and I. Just like everything else in my life these days, it’s slow-moving, but progress is being made.

A few weeks ago, I attended a funeral—my girlfriend’s dad’s funeral. I knew I was going from the second I heard about it. I told Trent he should come too, that it was a big day for the family and he should be there. We’ve been intertwined with that family for over thirty years—basically Trent’s entire life—and it wasn’t even that many Christmases ago we were all sitting across the table from him, laughing, telling jokes, just being together. Trent was on board immediately.

That same day, Kayla was bringing Baby Girl down for a visit. It was the last time I saw her before Saturday. I figured I’d pay my respects, leave early, and then have my one-on-one time with Umbriel around 3 PM.

But Kayla got into town earlier than expected. They called me from the McDonald’s across the street just as we were getting ready to leave. I asked, “Are you coming to the funeral?” Then I asked what she was wearing, and she said pink and blue—I think, or something like that. It definitely wasn’t black.

I said, “Come over. I’ll give you clothes, and I have an outfit for the baby.” Trent and I were already getting ready to walk out the door, but now there was a change—okay, Kayla’s coming over. I found her an outfit real quick, grabbed one for the baby, they changed, and we left together.

This was the first time Kayla had been in my house like that since before the baby’s first birthday—early September 2025. If you’ve read the book, you’ll know why.

I wasn’t even fazed. It just flowed.

We got to the funeral. Full house. Sad occasion indeed.

I stood at the back with someone I knew, when someone else standing near us became overwhelmed with tears. He walked out the side door into the lobby area just as my daughter was coming toward the lobby from a different direction. Kayla gave him a big hug—they hugged for a minute—and I said to the person beside me, “They know each other?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

As time went on, I asked my daughter how she knew him. She said, “I don’t know him. He was just really upset and crying, so I gave him a hug.”

That’s the Kayla I know. Oh, how I’ve missed her so much.

Umbriel was by far the youngest person at the funeral. There’s just something about a baby being at a funeral. I don’t know—I felt it that day the same way I did when I attended Leisa’s funeral in Nova Scotia and there was a baby making noise in the background. One soul leaving the Earth and new life in the same room—it’s powerful.

Baby Girl

As we got in the car heading back to my place so I could have my time with Umbriel, something hit me. I looked at Kayla, then diagonally at the baby, and Trent behind me. I lit up.

I said, “Wait a minute—the four of us are all in the same vehicle together, moving forward. My whole family is in this car.”

It was a moment, all right.

There’s an understanding between Kayla and I—I’ve noticed that lately. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but time does wonders. We’ve had some very difficult times and plenty of differences along the way, but as time goes on, I can’t help but wonder if she sees what I see—that we are alike in more ways than not. That we love each other. That we need each other.

So my Mother’s Day started a day early this year. It was filled with love and joy and hugs—not just from my granddaughter, but from my daughter too—and it flowed right into Sunday with my son.

Even him wishing me a happy Mother’s Day felt different, but I didn’t react to it like it was different. I felt normal—regulated, like that’s how it’s always been, even though that’s not how it’s always been.

I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend. Or a better Mother’s Day.

To all the mothers out there, I hope you were recognized for the love, strength, sacrifice, and commitment you give so freely every single day. 

—Jaye🖤