Happy Mothers Day To My Mom In Heaven

Okay, let's be honest. Mother's Day cards are weird.

Especially the ones for moms in heaven. They're, like, extra weird.

Unpopular Opinion Alert!

I'm about to say something that might get me canceled. But here goes...

Sending a Mother's Day card to heaven? Is it just me, or is it a little... performative?

Hear Me Out!

Don't get me wrong. I loved my mom, Ethel. Still do!

She made the best meatloaf. Even though it was always slightly pink inside. We pretended not to notice.

And she had this laugh. Like a hyena choking on a feather duster. Seriously unforgettable.

But, like, where is this card going? Is there a heavenly postal service? Do angels deliver?

And if they do, does Mom even *want* another card?

She probably already knows I'm thinking of her. Telepathy is probably a thing in heaven. Or at least I hope so.

I imagine her up there, surrounded by endless bingo games and all-you-can-eat buffets. And Dad, finally learning to load the dishwasher correctly.

A card? Seems a bit redundant. Don't you think?

Alternatives, My Friends, Alternatives!

Instead of buying a card, I do something Mom would have actually liked.

Like donate to a cat shelter. She was obsessed with cats. Maybe even more than me, which is saying something.

Or I bake a slightly-too-pink meatloaf. Just for the memories. And the risk of salmonella.

Maybe I'll even try to imitate her hyena laugh. My neighbors already think I'm nuts. What's one more reason?

Or I visit her favorite park. Sit on a bench. Watch the squirrels. And maybe, just maybe, feel a little bit closer to her.

These things feel more real. More…connected.

Because let’s face it. A Hallmark card just isn't the same as a hug.

It doesn't capture the smell of her perfume. Or the way she always managed to get frosting on her nose when she baked.

It’s just… words on paper.

"Words on paper that cost, like, six bucks these days,"

So, To All The Moms In Heaven...

I'm thinking of you! I really am.

But instead of sending a card, I'm going to live my life in a way that would make you proud.

And maybe, just maybe, eat a slightly-too-pink meatloaf in your honor.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Even if you're too busy playing bingo to notice.

Love you. And save me a seat at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

P.S. If you see Elvis, tell him I said hi.