I made a bonehead move last year on Mother’s Day weekend.

Because I was still reeling from the recent death of The Bevinator, I figured it would be in my prudent best interest to escape for a weekend getaway. Dealing with my first Mother’s Day without Mom and all the emotions would not do me (or anyone else anywhere near me) a bit of good.

So I called up my dear friend Jill (who is a mom herself of two blondiful daughters) and told her I needed respite. We spent the weekend shopping, eating and pedicuring our way through St. Louis. For her, it was likely the quintessential Mom-centric weekend. For me, it was escaping the inevitable, the grieving process.

Fast forward to 2016. Mother’s Day propaganda is everywhere.  Even though I wasn’t exactly cogniscent of it, it caused me to shut down hard. Cue the random crying jags, the lethargy and an ever-present stomach ache.

Last week I ceased to live and started just existing, and I could not figure out why. Turns out I miss Mom, something fierce.

Grief remains this odd entity I can’t understand. (I would use the expression “grief is a cruel mistress”, but I’ve never had a cruel mistress so I can’t make that correlation.) As soon as I started to miss Mom and accept it, she was everywhere. When I was in my 30’s, I once dedicated a song to her. It was, inappropriately enough — “She Drives Me Crazy” by Fine Young Cannibals. I heard that song twice last week … both times being gobsmacked. And for whatever reason, I smelled freshly-brewed coffee every where I went this week. Mom was a big proponent of her morning cup of Joe, so that smell would often permeate the house.

Eventually I got out of my rut and decided to stop moping. I probably should have gone though this whole neurotic process a year ago, but I wasn’t ready. And I’m sure that twelve months ago, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to notice all the signs that she’s still around me 24/7.

My first text this morning? It was from my spiritual advisor and it pretty much summed things up.

Time for a good cry and get this day started, kids. Brunch, planting flowers and cleaning the house. It’s like The Bevinator is still around … and then some. It remains a Bevinator 2.0 Weekend.