On Mother’s Day (Without Your Mom)

Today’s issue is a little off-topic but it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. With Mother's Day coming up, I thought you wouldn’t mind.

In the weeks and days leading up to May 12th, the world starts hounding us with little reminders and marketing messages for Mother’s Day. Lest we forget, it’s the perfect opportunity to buy a gift for Mom. Mom, the often unsung hero. The wind beneath so many wings! But for those of us who may have lost a mom, these incessant reminders can sting a little bit. It can feel like you have no one to shop for or celebrate, when, in fact, the opposite is true.

Mother’s Day originated in Pennsylvania almost 117 years ago. It was thanks to activist Anna Jarvis, who, on May 12, 1907, held a memorial service for her mom – to celebrate the woman who had spent her life organizing women’s groups to promote friendship and health. Fast forward five years and virtually every U.S. state had adopted the holiday. In 1914, Woodrow Wilson declared Mother’s Day a national holiday. Very quickly, though, the holiday – originally founded to honor and pay tribute to our mothers – became synonymous with sending cards, chocolates, and gift giving of all kinds. The commercialization of Mother’s Day upset Jarvis so much that she actually spent the latter years of her life attempting to abolish the holiday that she had introduced to the world.

So what if, like Jarvis intended, we thought about Mother’s Day a little bit differently? What if it wasn’t just about buying a gift for your living mom, wife, etc? (Though, yes, acts of kindness like gift-giving can be thoughtful and fulfilling for both parties.) This thought process has me wondering – how can we honor those mothers and mother figures who are no longer with us? In the years since my mom passed away, I’ve felt like this holiday wasn’t for me. But now, I’m more convinced than ever that it is, actually. Here are a few things I’m channeling this year in love and in honor of my mom, Betsy Young!

Keep their memory alive. Important life milestones — say, a wedding or the birth of a child — are particularly opportune times to carry the memory of a loved one with you. When I got married, my friend Lucy, who had lost her mom when we were in college, made me a pendant with my mom’s photo in it to tie around my wedding bouquet. It was incredibly special to have her photo tucked away under there, where only I could see it. I chose daisies for the bouquet – the same my mom held walking down the aisle forty-five years earlier. Everything about the day, including where we chose to get married and the person who married us, carried my mom’s memory in a light and wonderful way.

Make them proud. As a new mom to Elsie, this one rings especially true. “What would my mom do?” is something I find myself constantly asking. My mom was the best in the business! Every time Elsie (now four months!) does something cute or funny, I think of her. When I sing to Elsie, or read a familiar book, I hear my mom’s voice. There’s nothing like becoming a parent yourself to send all the childhood memories flooding back. Appreciation for my own parents abounds, and I feel immensely grateful to have lucked out with my mom and my dad. Four months into parenting and I’ve already found myself doing my best to channel my parents and the way they raised us. Parenting aside, I often think of how I can make my mom proud. This newsletter itself is something I hope she is looking down on and smiling about.

Sharing keepsakes. My parents were thoughtful enough to save some incredibly special things from our childhoods. A silver rattle, for example, that was once mine is now Elsie’s! My grandmother had a children’s boutique with dresses and outfits of all kinds. My mom saved those from my childhood (and my dad restored them), and I now get to dress my own daughter in some of the same dresses I wore as a baby.

Talk about them with your own kids. I think death can feel like a heavy, taboo topic, especially with young kids. This can lead to not talking about someone special who has passed on. When done in the right way, I think it’s important to teach little ones about those we love who came before us. My friend Sam posted about this book, Angels in the Sky, the other day, and I’m excited to read it to Elsie.

Share photos. I love photos. And I take a lot of them (probably too many). I have a treasure trove of my mom from all stages of our years together. I can get lost for hours revisiting photos in my camera roll and I love circulating them to my family, laughing and remembering.

Share stories. Something funny, embarrassing, heartfelt – whatever you want! It’s such a great way to keep someone’s memory alive. On this note, here is a story I love about my mom and me – on the topic of Mother’s Day circa 1995ish.

It was late April, many moons ago (I was five I think), and the marketing messages around Mother’s Day had surely been rolling in. I need to get my mom something special, I remember thinking to myself (and yes, even at that age, I remember this story well). Being that I was five, I had neither money nor a vehicle (or internet access) to buy her that something special. I mulled it over for weeks. Then! One day, a brilliant idea dawned on me. Flowers! From the ground! That I can pick! It’s free, thoughtful, and very well-suited for the holiday. The only hiccup? I grew up in Connecticut, where not many flowers are spontaneously sprouting out of the ground in April. However! Our neighbor across the way had just started her spring gardening, and the very morning before Mother’s Day, I noticed her planting the most perfect-looking flowers in neat little rows, right below her mailbox. “Wow!” I thought. “Perfect.” That afternoon, my best friend and I sauntered over there. We gently pulled the flowers from their base and poof! - they popped out with ease. They even had those little dirt cubes attached to the roots. Even better! Easy for Mom to plant them. My excitement was sky high. I tucked them out of sight on our front porch until Mother’s Day, when I could surprise her.

Finally, it was time. With enormous pride, I pulled out the plastic tray with my ready-to-easily-replant flowers. I couldn’t wait for my mom’s reaction. But, to my shock and horror, I was not met with the smile and gratitude I had anticipated.

“LACEY!” she said, horrified. “Where did you get these?!”

“Over there",” I replied, pointing to the neighbors yard, “from underneath Chris’s mom’s mailbox.”

Up to my room I was sent. I cried and cried for what felt like hours (looking back now, I’m sure it wasn’t that long). Then, I remember a gentle knock on the door. In came my mom. She had a snack for me in hand and sat down to softly explain that the flowers I had given her, while incredibly thoughtful, belonged to someone else. Confusing concept at five or six but from then on, I knew not to dig up freshly planted flowers. We laughed and laughed about that story later on. I told and retold it from my five-year-old perspective, and my mom always said she felt so guilty for her initial reaction. She shouldn’t, though, because isn’t your job as a mom to teach your children valuable lessons? You can’t raise a little thief!

Anyway,  it’s little memories like these that, I think, make remembering someone special. Tell them to family, to friends – even yourself, if no one wants to listen. Have a good one?! Share it in the chat!

Happy (early) Mother’s Day to all who celebrate! I hope this year can be a little less commercial and a little more heartfelt.