The first Mother’s Day without my mom.
It has already started to feel different, even before the day arrives.
I’ve found myself doing things I didn’t expect—walking past the greeting cards and gifts, knowing I’ll never pick one out for her again. That part hit me harder than I thought it would. It’s not just the cards themselves, it’s what they represent. The habit of planning ahead. The assumption that there would always be another Mother’s Day to get it right, to find something perfect, to say what I wanted to say in a slightly different way next year.
I keep thinking about the gifts I already gave her. The things I had meant to save for Mother’s Day but ended up giving early. I was so excited to give her a little tube of L'Occitane rose scented hand cream. And I’m really glad I did. Even if she only used it once, I got to give it to her. And somehow, that feels important now in a way I didn’t fully understand at the time.
I also notice how different this week feels when I open social media. I see the posts starting already—photos, tributes, long captions about moms who are loved and missed and celebrated. And I do love seeing them. I really do. There’s something beautiful about watching people honor their mothers so openly.
But this year, I might need a little break from it too.
Not because I don’t want to see love—but because I’m still learning how to hold my own grief in the middle of all of it. I’m still figuring out what I can take in and what I need to step back from, especially on days like Sunday when everything feels amplified.
I guess I’ll see what Sunday brings.
That’s the truth of it—I don’t really know yet. I’m not trying to over-plan it or force it into something it’s not. I’ve learned that grief doesn’t always cooperate with expectations. Some moments feel manageable. Others don’t. And holidays have a way of bringing both into the same day.
What I’m trying to figure out now is how other people get through days like this. I’ve had so many kind people offer advice, and I’m grateful for all of it. But what helps me most is hearing how others actually live through it—how they move through milestones and holidays when someone they love is no longer here.
Do they keep traditions? Change them? Ignore the day completely? Let it come and go without pressure?
I don’t think there’s a right answer.
I think I’m just trying to give myself permission to find my own version of it this year. To not force anything. To step away if I need to. To lean in if I can. To remember her in ways that feel real instead of expected.
And maybe that’s what I’m learning most right now—that grief on days like Mother’s Day isn’t something to “get through” correctly.
It’s something to move with, however it shows up.