It’s curious how recovery brings a fresh take on so much in everyday life.

Like holidays.

And especially this one – Mother’s Day.

When my son was in active addiction, Mother’s Day was a day to despise.  As it approached, I felt the already high tension tightening even more.

Just get through it, I thought.

Where we live we cannot avoid crowds, especially tourists. Sheltering inside the house that annual Sunday I always felt safe.  But too often the day was achingly beautiful.  Baby blue skies and soft breezes beckoned.

Walking down Main Street was torture.  My heart leapt at the sight of happy families.  Women holding flowers, or even a single rose – living testament to their children’s adoration – brought my gaze to their smiling eyes. Happiness defined.

Where was my rose?

But it was just a day, a day like any other.  By Monday morning, thankfully, the mood lifted.

My father once said that Mother’s and Father’s Day were just inventions of chambers of commerce, conjured up to sell cards, candy and dinner reservations.

Founders clearly never considered the sadness they bring to many moms who for so many reasons cannot celebrate it – or be celebrated.

Perhaps the ultimate irony is that when recovery finally did come – for both Jacob through AA and for me through Al-Anon – the uniqueness of a day honoring mothers mattered less and less.

Because when your child has been abusing alcohol or drugs, and is lost to you every day, all that matters is that you find a serenity where the calendar doesn’t dictate how you feel.

And when the miracle of recovery finally arrives –  one day at a time – every day is mother’s day