Over the past few years, I have seen cancer invade my friend Rachel’s mom’s body, eventually resulting in the death of her mother. Now, cancer is attacking her husband’s body. I’ve seen Rachel grieve and pull herself up from despair. Losing a mother is especially difficult in your thirties, and you have your own children. The grief and sadness of her losses run deep, and the exhaustion of enduring wave after wave of sorrow is all too familiar. However, God’s presence has been the source of her strength. This is why she is the perfect person to speak into how to celebrate mother’s day without a mother. Lean in today as we welcome Rachel Pitman to the Kitchen Sink to share her wisdom….
I lost my mom to cancer just over three years ago – we said goodbye to her one week before Mother’s Day in 2021. That year, on Mother’s Day, instead of celebrating her, we spent our time reeling from the loss of her, trying to right our world that had been uprooted and felt like it would never be okay again. In the years since, we have recaptured some of our normals, which are not the same as they were but are different. Still with a giant hole from the loss of her, still missing her fiercely every day, but with a perspective of life only time can bring us–a sense of okay in the pain, a smile at thoughts of her instead of a tear, a love that most of the time overshadows the pain.
As I sit and reflect on what Mother’s Day means now, as a mom without my mom, I find myself lost in thoughts of motherhood.
What does it mean, what does it require of you, and what does it cost?
I find myself incredibly grateful for the sacrifices my mom made for us, fully knowing now what they felt like for her then and what they required of her. I know what it feels like to love my kids, and to think she loved me with that same love fills me with a different honor for her.
So, how do we celebrate Mother’s Day without our mom?
Mother’s Day has a new meaning. It’s not a day to be with her in person anymore, but a day to dwell on these few things:
To stop and acknowledge that life is harder without her.
It is difficult to understand how hard it is to be the mom without your mom, to live in the dichotomy of taking care of your babies without someone to take care of you. My mom was my safe place, my rest. Even as an adult, I could come to her heavy and full, and she took some of that burden, even just for a little while. She understood the weight of caring for the little ones, worrying about them, and loving them. She knew how important every small event was, every scraped knee or fever. She always had the right words for each situation, even if it was just an “I’m sorry, I’ll pray for you.” Somehow, just the knowledge that there was always someone there to answer the phone, empathize, care, and truly understand in a way others cannot make each day a little easier to handle. Without her, some days seem impossible. We get through them, as we always do, but the weight feels crushing at times, and there is no Mom there to mom me, to love and hold me and tell me it’s going to be ok. And on Mother’s Day or any other day, it’s ok to say that it is hard, it’s okay to be sad and upset that this is your routine now, it’s ok to miss her, and know that your life is made more difficult without her.
To remember the whole of her, the good and the bad, together as one.
Moms are people, humans like the rest of us. It’s easy when someone is gone to only want to remember the good things, to romanticize their lives and think of them as perfect, and then to hold yourself to that standard of perfection you have convinced yourself that she was. But the truth is we are all humans, moms included. We do the best we can, and we make mistakes. As I think back on my memories of my mom, I have to tell myself it’s alright to remember the frustrating, embarrassing, and even the awful, along with the good, that it’s okay to feel the hurt and anger she caused along with the love. I need to remember that she was a human who made mistakes to permit me to do the same. I want to hold myself to a standard that is not perfection but one of love. She loved us enough to admit when she made mistakes, to apologize, and always to tell us the truth. And that is a standard we can all measure up to, not a false ideal of perfection, but an accurate picture of humanity and grace.
To honor what she taught me and mother my own kids in a way that would make her proud.
My mom taught me that truth is more loving than a sugar-coated lie; it may not feel as good in the moment, but it’s worth more in the end. She taught me to be strong and never back down just because doing the right thing is hard, to figure out what you believe in and why, and to live in a way that reflects those beliefs. She taught me to love hard and fully, to bring a laugh to the table even in hard times, and to lean on those around you when you cannot hold yourself up. She taught me these and so many more things in my 34 years with her. And now, it’s my turn to teach those same things to my kids. I want to pass on the best of her to them, to tell my babies what I learned from her, and to keep her legacy going in them as well.
Mother’s Day without her is different but still just as meaningful.
It’s a day to celebrate all that she was, honor what she gave me, sit in the pain of life without her, and remember her in the reality of life, not just through rose-colored glasses. It’s still her day– to me a day that’s all about her legacy and her love; we just have to find ways to celebrate her without her physical presence. Like any other day without my mom, it’s not the same, but I can find ways to keep her in it with me and keep her in love with us—the same but different that is life every day without my mom.