My First Motherless Mothers’ Day
I don’t know about you, but Mother’s Day was a big deal for my grandmother in the 1980 and 90s, so we did the whole thing, reservations at a fancy restaurant (one looked like an actual castle!), Sunday best outfits were worn, a corsage was purchased, and the entire day was set aside to pay homage to our matriarch.
As a kid I knew about and respected the tradition.
When my grandmother died, my mother liked to be recognized for the holiday but not in the same ways. I think she did not like the connotation of matriarch. In her mind that meant she was OLD, and that was to be avoided at all costs. In fact, she did not even want to be called grandma, she thought Empress Shute was a way better title. We would give a small gift, with a heartfelt card, and my husband, son, and I, would have brunch with her. During these meals, she was of course the focus of our attention.
At other times we would gather with our extended family and make it a bigger production. As she got older, and her hearing got worse, she was less interested in participating. Then she suffered a brain injury in 2019, and she was mostly disconnected or if she wasn't, it was quite superficial. All this is to give you the backstory as this Sunday will be my first Mothers’ Day without a living mother and I feel a bit like an orphaned child.
In my life I have limited exposure to advertising, and this is intentional on my part. I have very little to do with social media anymore which made my recent trip to Walgreen’s a bit more jarring. Upon entering I saw a giant 3-foot-wide helium balloon adorned with a scrolling font declaring Happy Mothers’ Day. I thought to myself “OK, that is coming up, weird, my mom is dead.” I walked a few more feet into the store and saw an end cap display of “flowers for mom.” Then I thought, “I wonder how I will feel on Mothers’ Day, this Sunday? “My errand required me to go deeper into their aisles. Then a carboard tower of cards for mothers expressing loving sentiments about their impact and significance upon the purchaser’s life. This was about a 7-minute experience, and I didn’t like it.
These were just so many obvious and in-your-face reminders. I know there were more lurking behind other corners within the store. This was only one store. What will it be like at grocery or department stores for those of us whose mothers have died?
Unfortunately, I can’t protect us by creating stores without those reminders. What I can do is say, “I am sorry your mom died and that the world dares to go on without her. I am also sorry that the world forgets our reality.”
I want to take care of those who grieve and acknowledge that it can be a lovely tradition for others to be able to honor their living mom, mum, mother, mama, ma, mommy, mummy, and whatever other names we call them.
I see you; all your experiences and feelings are valid. I hope you can do something this Mother’s Day that is right for you and the memories you have of your maternal figure whether she is still physically here on the planet or has taken her leave. We are thinking of you in life and living and death and dying.
