When Mother's Day Hurts
Mother's Day is everywhere today.
It's in the grocery store displays, the Instagram posts, the cheerful commercials. It fills up your feed with flowers and brunches and smiling families. And if you are grieving — if you have lost your mother, lost a child, or are carrying a grief that doesn't fit neatly into a card — this day can feel like the world is speaking a language you no longer understand.
You are not alone in that feeling. And you are not wrong for having it.
For Those Who Have Lost Their Mother
There is no preparing for the first Mother's Day after your mother dies. And there is no getting used to the ones that come after, either — not exactly. The grief simply changes shape.
You may find yourself reaching for the phone out of habit. You may feel her absence most sharply in the smallest things: the way she folded towels, the sound of her voice when she answered the door, the specific comfort of knowing she was there.
Grief on a holiday like this doesn't follow the rules. It doesn't honor the calendar. It arrives on its own terms — sometimes as sadness, sometimes as numbness, sometimes as an unexpected wave of love that has nowhere to go.
All of it is allowed.
You don't have to celebrate this day. You don't have to ignore it, either. You get to decide what this day means now — and that meaning is allowed to change year by year.
- Light a candle for her. Let yourself sit in the quiet of it.
- Look at photographs — or don't. Both are okay.
- Do something she loved. Cook her recipe. Walk her favorite path. Wear something she gave you.
- Tell someone a story about her. Let her name be spoken.
- Give yourself permission to feel whatever surfaces — without judgment, without rushing through it.
For Mothers Who Have Lost a Child
This one is often unseen. And that invisibility can be its own kind of grief.
If you have lost a baby, a young child, a grown son or daughter — you are still a mother. That never changes. Your love did not end with their life.
Mother's Day may feel hollow, or unbearable, or both. You may feel overlooked in the celebrations around you, as if the world doesn't know where to place you.
We do. You belong in this day as much as anyone.
Some things that can help:
- Speak their name. Visit a place that holds meaning for you both.
- Be gentle about how much togetherness you can hold. It is okay to step back from family gatherings if it doesn't feel right for you.
- Let yourself be cared for, if someone offers. You deserve that softness too.
For Those Supporting Someone Who Is Grieving This Mother's Day
You may be searching for the right words. You may be wondering whether to bring it up at all — afraid of saying the wrong thing, of making it worse.
Here is what we know: acknowledgment is almost always better than silence.
A grieving person is already thinking about their loss. They don't need you to avoid it. What they need — what most of us need when we are hurting — is simply to feel seen.
You don't need to fix anything. You don't need the perfect words. You can show up for them by just being there for them.
What you don't need to say: "She's in a better place," or "At least you had so many years together," or "I know how you feel." These phrases, however well-meaning, tend to close the door rather than open it. Just keep the door open. That's enough.
That doesn't make it easier. But it does make it meaningful.
If you are in the thick of it today, we hope you find one small moment of softness. A breath of fresh air. A memory that makes you smile even through the ache. A person who holds space for you without trying to fill it.
You are seen. You are not alone. And your grief — in all its forms — is a testament to how deeply you have loved.
What does Mother's Day look like for us today?
This is Jennifer writing here today, and I have survived 12 Mother's Days without my first born, Robert.
Is it hard?
Yes, it is still hard.
I still miss him; I still love him and long to hug him.
It sill hurts and it always will.
AND I get to continue to live the best life that I can. I still get to love and laugh and enjoy those that I get to spend the day with. Dan and I are hosting a Mother's Day, and I will get to eat and laugh with my mom and Robert's brothers, Michael and Steven.