This year, I found myself attending a funeral for the first time in over a decade. The heavy summer humidity and the unexpected downpour at the cemetery brought back memories. It was a familiar place; fifteen years prior, on a somber February day, I stood at the same grave, my boots sinking into the muddy ground, holding hands with my mother and grandmother as we mourned my grandfather. Fast forward to that August day, and it was my grandmother’s turn to depart, leaving me standing with just one hand to hold. Now, it was my mother and I, gripping each other tightly, promising to support one another through the emotional journey ahead.
As Mother’s Day approaches and the weather warms, my children have started their school projects in anticipation of the holiday. They will create handprints, lace-paper hearts, and Crayola sunflowers featuring their happy faces. Yet, this year, my own mother faces the holiday for the very first time as someone who has lost her own mother—someone who has experienced that profound love and must now find a way to remember it. Therefore, I write this message to her and to all the mothers who find themselves longing for a hand to hold.
To the Mothers of Young Children:
I know you will come across photographs on your phone, your fridge, or even your social media feed that will remind you of the one you miss so dearly. I understand that you will wake up tired yet manage a smile as your children bring you slightly burnt pancakes in bed. You will cherish whatever gifts they present, whether handmade or store-bought, and shower them with kisses, inhaling the familiar scents of childhood—the sweet sweat, warm breaths, and baby shampoo. You will help them get dressed, reminding them to say please and thank you while preparing for your celebratory meal. You will continue to mother them, even as your heart aches for the nurturing you also need.
I know you will hide your tears, wanting to weep for the woman who once held you close. Throughout the day, you may find yourself conversing with her in your mind, reflecting on the moments that feel even more poignant in her absence. At some point, you might step away to take quick, shallow breaths before letting the tears flow like a child wishing to return to simpler times. It’s okay to cry like that; sometimes, we all need that release. Children know how to do it right, with their snotty faces and hiccups, leaving you feeling raw yet cleansed.
Eventually, you will smile again for the little hands that come to check on you. You will end the day just as it began—with kisses, pajamas, and warm bodies to comfort you. I hope you find solace in those moments, allowing the bedtime songs and gentle caresses to soothe your spirit and help you navigate the bittersweet nature of this day.
To the Mothers of Mothers:
You may find yourself rummaging through old albums, looking at photographs that evoke a longing for moments you wish you could relive. You might want to call your children but instead wait for them to reach out first—letting them have their breakfasts in bed, homemade cards, and morning snuggles, just like you once did.
When the call comes, I know you’ll smile, even as laughter and the chaos of their lives echo in the background. You will be genuinely happy for their joy, but the silence that follows will feel heavier when the conversation ends and the memories flood back. You will also talk to your mother in your heart, sharing all the words you wish you could convey if she were still here. As the day unfolds, you will shift through roles—being a mother, a grandmother, and yes, the child who misses her own mother. That’s perfectly alright. Embrace all of these identities, and when night falls, acknowledge the many Mother’s Days past and those yet to come.
To all the mothers navigating the complex emotions of being a “motherless mother” on this day, remember that you are not alone. You don’t have to confine yourself to one role. You can weep like a child while still holding the hands of your own kids, whether they are young or grown. You are allowed to be the one who calls out to the other side, even as you stand firmly in your own space, because Mother’s Day is about honoring both celebration and remembrance.
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In summary, this Mother’s Day, whether you are celebrating or mourning, embrace the complexity of your emotions. You are not alone in your journey, and it’s perfectly natural to feel both joy and sorrow as you navigate your roles as a mother and as someone who remembers their own.
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