This year, I attended my first funeral in over a decade. Despite the sweltering summer heat and an unexpected downpour at the cemetery, the setting felt eerily familiar. Fifteen years ago, on a somber February day, I stood in the same place, my boots sinking into the muddy ground, clutching the hands of my mother and grandmother—a line of grief for the grandfather we had lost. Fast forward to this August, and it was my grandmother’s turn to depart, leaving me with just one hand to hold. Now, it was my mother and I, and our grip became stronger, a sweaty promise to support each other through this sorrow and the years ahead.
With Mother’s Day approaching, the weather has warmed, and my children have eagerly begun their school projects—handprints, lace-paper hearts, and Crayola sunflowers with their beaming faces at the center. Yet, this year, my own mother faces the holiday for the first time as one of the motherless, someone who has experienced profound love and now must navigate the ache of memory. I write this for her and for all mothers who will be reaching for a hand that is no longer there.
To Mothers of Young Children:
I know you will come across cherished photos on your phone, fridge, and social media that will bring your missing mother to mind. You’ll wake up tired but grateful as your kids serve you burnt pancakes in bed. You’ll appreciate every handmade gift, whether it’s a crafted token or a simple hug. I know you will kiss their heads, inhaling the sweet scent of their hair and skin. You will guide them through their day, reminding them to say please and thank you at your celebratory meal. You will mother them as you have always done, even as your heart aches for the comfort of your own mother.
I understand you won’t let your children see the tears you want to release when thinking of the woman who came before you. You’ll have conversations with her in your mind throughout this day, which feels more significant in the wake of her absence. At some point, you may step away, taking shallow breaths before the tears come—crying like a child who longs for a mother. That’s perfectly fine; we all need those moments of release. Children know how to cry fully, with snotty hiccups and flushed cheeks that ultimately leave you feeling cleansed.
Then, I know you will smile again when little hands come to check on you. You will end the day as it began—with kisses, pajamas, and warm cuddles. I hope you find comfort in those moments as well, allowing the bedtime rituals to ease your heart and mind in a soothing meditation as the day comes to a close.
To Mothers of Mothers:
I know you will sift through old photographs in attics or albums, holding them a moment longer as you trace the contours of a life you wish you could revisit. You may want to call your children but will wait for them to reach out to you—allowing them the joy of breakfast in bed and handmade cards. That’s how you mother now, with patience and understanding of the rituals you once cherished.
You will smile through the phone as your children’s laughter or tears fill the background. You’ll be genuinely happy for their joy, yet the silence will feel deafening once the call ends and the memories cascade back like waves, reminding you that life continues.
You will speak to your mother, sharing all the thoughts you would have conveyed if you could make that call today. Throughout the day, you will play many roles—the mother, the grandmother, and yes, the child who misses her own mother. That’s okay. You can embrace every part of yourself. As night falls, I hope you acknowledge the many Mother’s Days that have come before and those yet to come.
To all mothers who are living this complex existence of being a mother while also feeling the void left by their own mother, know that you are not alone. You don’t have to confine yourself to just one role. You can cry freely like a child. You can miss the hand you no longer hold while holding your own children, whether they are young or grown. You are allowed to be the one who reaches out, even as you stand firm in your current reality. Mother’s Day is a time to honor both celebration and remembrance.
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Summary
This heartfelt message speaks to mothers who are experiencing the profound loss of their own mothers on Mother’s Day. It acknowledges the mixed emotions of celebration and sorrow, encouraging mothers to embrace their feelings and remember those they’ve lost while also cherishing the love they give to their children.