The Complexity of Mother’s Day Without Your Mom (Eener’s Version)

As a child, I celebrated Mother’s Day how many other children did - making handmade cards, giving flowers, and making up silly dances to I Love You, Always, Forever by Donna Lewis (obviously changing the eye colour from blue to green to match my own Mama’s). I told my Mom she was the best in the world and wholeheartedly believed it. 

I still do.

When she passed, Mother’s Day started to feel different. I felt alone in my sadness, as I was told by my sister that I needed to be the strong one. I took that role too seriously as an eleven year old parentless child. 

Yet, amidst the sadness, there was also obligation. I was surrounded by other Mothers. My sister who cared for me like I was her own. My Aunt who raised me. My Godmothers. Mothers of my friends. Of course I celebrated these women - they were there for me, were symbols of love, and people I felt, and still feel, eternally grateful for. They helped shape me into the person I am today. 

It is a strange feeling celebrating others while privately grieving. I can imagine it being offputting to bring up a child’s lost Mother on Mother’s Day, so no one really asked me how I was doing, or, I quietly ignored when they did. 

Silently, I cried, I wept, I missed her more than I ever let people know. I wanted so badly to hide, to withdraw from the day entirely, pretending that it wasn’t happening so I could avoid the excruciating pain I was carrying. Alone in my room I prayed to God to put my Mom on the line so I could tell her how much I love her and miss her and wish she was here. I held on to the wish that it was all a big, evil prank, or witness protection plan, and that one day my Mom would walk back into my life, alive and well. But on the outside, I kept my strong facade, as I showered the Mother figures in my life with gratitude and love, trying desperately to connect to something bigger than my grief. 

I believe that losing a Mother at a young age really changes the relationship we have to death, spirit, and the unseen. Children have a way of navigating life in its entirety through imagination and wonder, with an innate connection to their intuition before the nuance of “losing” their innocence. 

Death is no different. 

Of course, wrapping your mind around the loss of the physical body of someone you are intrinsically connected to is devastating, there is a belief of sorts that they are still there, still within you. This is a profound lesson at any stage in life, but not an easy one. That’s where imagination and wonder help to absorb the wisdom found here, even if it’s not recognized that way in the moment. 

I’ve often felt the pity people project when I’ve told them of losing my Mom so young. My replies have shifted over the years, from “yeah, it sucks.” to “thank you.” with tears in my eyes, to “loss of a Mother at any age isn’t easy.” 

I’m not saying it was a good time to lose my Mom, because it never is. But I recognize that adult loss carries its own devastating weight. Having been through so much together, the memories add up, the connection deepens, and even the harder lessons add value to those years. Grief is grief, and it changes shape depending on when it arrives. I was able to hold onto the innocence and honesty of my relationship with my Mom, having not had the hard years of puberty to push back, or the rebellious teenage drama to navigate with her. There was no before and after adulthood to compare our relationship to, and no physical tether creating tension or resentment. We only shared a connection of curiosity, friendship, and loyalty. 

I feel grateful I was able to navigate my grief having a supportive community around me; people I knew had also lost someone close to them. I have since met many others who have been through this same loss. Other members of the dreaded Dead Parent’s Club - a club no one really wants to be in, but is pushed upon us leaving us in existential wondering. Some friends have responded by leaning in, allowing a soft and safe space to be together in understanding. Some have reacted more harshly in defensive mode, creating a hierarchy of which is worse. Unresolved loss spills outward when it has nowhere safe to go. I feel for those who never felt safe to share their grief, who weren’t able to process the loss of the one person in the world we are closest to; the one who literally dreams us into being and teaches us unconditional love. My hope for them is that they are able to learn this lesson on their own, because we are all worthy of love without conditions. 

I’m sure we’ve all heard it said that healing is not linear. The way I have grieved the loss of my Mom has really proved this to me again and again. How it shows up unexpectedly, how it shifts and takes new shapes in each stage of my life. 

I went through a stage in my early adulthood where I wanted to stop celebrating Mother’s Day altogether. I had started to feel resentful that I didn’t have my Mother to shower with love and flowers and living-room performances. I felt deep apathy towards the day. 

But this didn’t feel right, either. I realized that my withdrawal was not healing the wound; it was only making me feel more isolated and alone in my journey. I remembered that gratitude for other Mothers and Mother-figures did not diminish my own Mother. The lesson came in quite clearly:

My Gratitude for all Mothers is Gratitude for my own Mother.

The healing truly began when I stopped allowing my grief to isolate me from Love.

Over time, I stopped trying to outrun my grief and began creating space to meet it with intention. 

My hand on my heart as I breathe love for her in, and out. Lighting a candle in her honour. Talking to the flame and listening for guidance. Making a plate for her as an offering.

Writing letters. Asking relatives and community members for their stories about her.

Sharing memories with my family.

Remembering that others lost her, too. 

Our grief is collective, and I was never really alone. 

I’m now able to find peace in the unseen connection I will forever have to my Mom. 

Mother’s Day was officially recognized in America by a woman named Anna Jarvis who had lost her Mother, an activist and suffragette. It was a day for honouring the love of a Mother, as she believed a Mother to be someone “who has done more for you than anyone else in the world.” (Wikipedia) She believed that people should honour their Mothers with heartfelt words and letters, rather than buying mass produced cards and gifts. Of course, however you like to honour the Mothers in your life is beautiful, so you do you!

How will you honour your Mother, and all Mothers in your life this year? How will you process your grief if this is something you are carrying? How can you create an intentional moment of expressing your gratitude for the life you are living? What ripple of kindness would feel good for you to make today?

Wherever you are in your journey, I see you. May this Mother’s Day bring healing, and remind you of the unconditional love that surrounds you. May the unseen Mother’s in your life be honoured with your thoughts, your memories, and your love. May you find meaning here, today. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the Mothers out there. Thank you for giving us life. Thank you for all you sacrificed to raise us with love, however that looked. Thank you for being our first teachers, and our biggest fans. I love you!