Two Tides of Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day has looked a little different for me the past few years.

Parts of those Sundays have been spent at the cemetery — lawn chair, flowers, maybe a Caesar in hand — catching my mom up on what’s been going on and sitting quietly for a while.

It’s not exactly the Hallmark version of the day… but it’s become part of mine.

And this year will look a little different again.

After my mom passed away, I remember joking with my siblings, “Well… I guess we’re officially orphans now.” We laughed — because sometimes that’s what you do — but there was a quiet truth in it too.

Mother’s Day has become a bit of a two-tide day for me. And maybe it always will.

One tide pulls me toward missing my mom…
and the other reminds me that I get to be celebrated as a mom myself.

Motherhood doesn’t arrive all at once.

It’s shaped over time — by the people who raised us, and the people we’re raising.

My mom and I didn’t always see eye to eye. We came from different times. Different experiences. Different ways of seeing what it meant to raise a family.

She lost her love, my Dad, to cancer in 2003. He was her best friend and partner for 42 years and suddenly she was on her own.

I know that she was sad for a long time…and maybe even angry that he left her alone, before they even had a chance to enjoy their retirement together.

I was sad after losing my husband to cancer. He was 45 years old. I was also mad at the unfairness of it all. Why him? He was so young, healthy, active, and just a fantastic human being.

I only had 3 years with him. Not 42. I can’t even imagine the hole that losing my Dad left in my Mom’s heart.

Something shifted in my relationship with my Mom after that.

It wasn’t a full turning of the tides, more like a constant undertow that I was always mindful of.

She would challenge me about how I was raising my kids, question decisions I had made, and once in awhile even ask if I had put on weight (I mean, I probably had).

I could never quite pinpoint it.
It just…was.

But she was my Mom.

And I loved her.

And I miss her.

The truth is, we don’t just inherit the good parts of motherhood.

We carry all of it — the lessons, the differences, the things we keep and the things we choose to do differently.

Some of it shapes us quietly.
Some of it challenges us.
And all of it becomes part of the kind of mother we grow into.

And somewhere along the way, I realized something else.

My mom made me a mom…but my kids are the ones who have taught me how to be one.

They’ve been my support system when life’s challenges started to break me.

They’ve been my cheering section when I achieved goals I had set for myself.

They’ve challenged me when they saw that I was making decisions that weren’t necessarily reflecting my values.

Above all else, they grew from tiny adorable cherubs into incredibly kind, caring, selfless adults.

They have careers, amazing partners, and continue to show up for me, for their friends, and for their families.

No matter what else I do in my life - whatever mistakes or bad choices I might make - I can look at them and know that I got something exactly right.

So Mother’s Day, for me, lives somewhere in between.

Between remembering the woman who raised me…

and celebrating the two who continue to shape me.

Maybe that’s what motherhood really is — something we receive, something we question, and something we keep becoming.

However this day feels for you — full, complicated, joyful, or quiet — I hope you find a moment to honour the tides that brought you here.

Until next time, may a small wave of inspiration find you.