For many years there were three days that I hated: my mom’s birthday, the anniversary of her death, and of course the obvious: Mother’s Day. These days were dreaded, marked on the calendar with black marker and expected to be terrible. They were always self fulfilling prophecies — even if I didn’t feel sad or I woke up feeling okay on these days, I would make sure that by the end of the day I knew what day it was.
I don’t really know why I did this. I think maybe I felt like I wasn’t doing the day justice if I was happy. Maybe I thought that my mom would be ashamed if I didn’t treat the day as solemnly as I deemed necessary.
Thankfully, as I’ve gotten older I have moved out of this phase.
I now realize that forcing myself to feel miserable wasn’t doing the memory of my mother any justice. The anger or bitterness I felt towards other people and their mothers on Mother’s Day, or their mother’s birthday, were not going to bring my mother back. Honestly, beating myself up about what each day should feel like just managed to leave me feeling upset and exhausted.
Feeling sad on these days is totally normal and it’s perfectly okay to admit you are not okay. However, if you don’t feel especially sad on these days, it’s not mandatory to force yourself into those moods.
Mother’s Day, above all, is about celebrating mothers and the impact they have made, whether they’re still around or not.
This realization stemmed from an initial purchase that reminded me of my mom. It was a pair of Tom’s shoes that said “toms <3 moms” all over them.
They were of course intended for people to buy them for their moms, but instead I bought a pair for myself as a reminder of my mom. I tend to wear them on special days — like Mother’s Day — and on regular days too — days I miss my mom, when I’m doing something that reminds me of her or simply because they match my outfit.
The first time I wore them though was extremely memorable. It was at a James Taylor concert, who was her favorite artist, and the entire night felt extra special because of them.
Mother’s Day hasn’t necessarily gotten easier as I’ve gotten older, the loneliness isn’t something that you get used to.
Nonetheless, I have learned that it is a good time to also appreciate other people in my life who have been there for me in her absence.
For whatever reason I have found myself particularly drawn to women who are old enough to be my mother, but who have for various reasons not had children. In some ways, I have turned them into the “mother” that I need in certain instances of my life.
I turn to them for guidance, good conversation and advice. Although in not having children they didn’t lose anything like I did when I lost my mom, for whatever reason I feel as if I gain so much from my interactions with them.
Although no one will ever replace my mother, it is nice knowing that there are other women who are there for me and deserve much thanks.
I am blessed to have multiple people in my life — cousins, teachers, friends, my father, my sister and my mother — who have shaped me. They’ve helped me grow and have consistently treated me as a child’s toy sailboat in a bathtub — gently blowing it in the correct direction.
I am slowly but surely realizing and finding that Mother’s Day is not a time or space meant to grieve. Instead, for me, it’s turned into a way to celebrate everyone who has helped me in her absence.
I also choose to recognize how my mom continues to help me despite the seemingly all too real chasm between us and memories and lessons cut short by time.
This year, I am choosing not to grieve this loss. Today, on Mother’s Day, I will wake up, put my mom Tom’s on, listen to some JT and smile knowing that I have a beautiful day ahead of me. I’ll be thankful for all that I have gained from everyone in my life, especially my mother.
For more essays on Mother’s Day, read here.
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