Grieving on Mother’s Day: Who Am I Without You?

Written By: Marie Brandon, BSN, RN, Certified Grief Educator

“April showers bring May flowers. But what do May flowers bring?” I may be dating myself here, but anyone else familiar with this saying? My mom used to say this and follow it with either “bees” or “Pilgrims” (as in the Mayflower ship). My mom had a way of saying things that stuck with me. This makes me wonder, what odd sayings will my children remember from me?

May also brings Mother’s Day, which can be difficult for many. I still celebrate my mom, even years after her passing, but Mother’s Day took on a new meaning after becoming a mother myself. Now, two years after the death of my son, it looks and feels profoundly different. 

Honoring the Roots: The Origin of Mother’s Day

“The carnation does not drop its petals, but hugs them to its heart as it dies, and so too, mothers hug their children to their hearts, their mother ‘s love never dying.” – Anna Jarvis, originator of Mother’s Day. 

What began as a daughter’s tribute became a national holiday in 1914. After the death of her mother on May 9, 1905, Anna Jarvis wanted a day to honor not only her mother but all mothers.  For the first Mother’s Day celebration in 1908, Anna sent 500 white carnations to Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church in her mother’s honor, establishing the white carnation as the official flower ofMother’s Day. 

Silent Isolation

While many celebrate with joy, others face the day with silent heartache. A deep ache that is felt from missing your mom, your child, or both. After loss, it can be difficult to navigate the day when the one who makes this day special is no longer here. Like the winter holidays, with Mother’s Day comes a shift in the world around us. The stores with Mother’s Day displays and restaurants advertising Sunday brunch can leave grievers feeling isolated and alone, even when surrounded by other family and friends. 

Who am I now?

The world around us is filled with labels. I know a huge part of my identity is connected to my role within relationships, first as a daughter, then as a mother. But while the roles may look different when the ones who defined them have passed, the labels don’t have to. I will always be my mother’s daughter, and I will always be a mom, even after my son’s death. For those mothers who have lost their only child, that identity can feel especially fragile. Whether you suffered a miscarriage, a stillbirth, loss of a young child or an adult child, you were, are, and always will be a mother. Mother’s Day can be a time to adjust how we continue to be a mother or a child to the one we have lost by adjusting how we honor and celebrate them on the day.

Redefining How We Celebrate

It’s the week before Mother’s Day and the triggers are all around. So how do we protect our hearts? Start with communication. Let others know what you want, or don’t want, for the day. And it is okay if you don’t know what that is!  Sometimes you may not know how you’ll feel until you wake up that morning. There are multiple ways we can honor our mother-child bond, even in their absence. Consider creating your own ways to honor the day: light a candle, write a letter, donate in their name, volunteer somewhere they enjoyed, plant something that grows. My daughters and I make a flexible plan for holidays, usually a restaurant that doesn’t charge a cancellation fee, so we can decide on the day itself whether we feel like going out or staying in.

Finding Compassion in Community

Grieving mothers are often overlooked on Mother’s Day. After all, the origin of the day goes back to the death of a mother, not a child. Like in all aspects of grief, being seen, validated, and supported is essential. Something many people don’t know exists, because they don’t need it, is Bereaved Mother’s Day. Nationally observed the first Sunday of May, it is a day for mothers to honor their child and the grief surrounding their passing. Coming up on my third Mother’s Day since my son’s passing, I think I may be ready to try and enjoy the day with my daughters. I also know there will be some guilt associated with any joy I feel. For me, joining in a Bereaved Mothers gathering where I focus on my son, sharing memories, fears, and tears in a safe space with others who understand, brings comfort. It gives me a sense of permission to let the joy in, come Mother’s Day. 

Giving Yourself Permission

Give yourself permission. Permission to be sad, to feel joy, to be angry, to smile. One emotion doesn’t define you, your grief, or the love you have for your mother or child. Permission to stay home or go out. To celebrate or to let the day pass quietly. Permission to change your mind next year—or next hour. I was caught up in the need to get it right the first year after my son’s death. Thinking I had to set a permanent tone for how future Mother’s Days would look, but grief and how we live with it evolves, and so can our traditions. 

If you are struggling with grief this Mother’s Day or know someone who is, there are free resources available below. Also, an online search for “bereaved Mother’s Day events near me” and “events for grievers on Mother’s Day near me” will reveal local gatherings for those who desire in-person community.

• Virtual Grief Support Group

• G4G Resources

• David Kessler: Grief on Mother’s Day –

“Let this day, like your grief journey, be whatever you need it to be.”

— xo, Marie