MOMENTSWITHMAUDE.COM

As May unfolds with blooming flowers and bright skies, the world turns its attention to Mother’s Day—a time to celebrate the women who nurtured us and those we’ve nurtured. But for many of us, this day stirs complicated emotions, calls forth both love and loss, pain and healing.

My relationship with my mother was not an easy one. She died 39 years ago, but the legacy of our struggles still echoes. Ours was a relationship shaped by unspoken trauma, generational pain, and unmet needs. And yet, she was my mother. Her absence, like her presence, has left its mark on me.

I am a mother. That simple truth holds multitudes. I am the mother of a son who is now the father of five daughters. Our journey together has had its bumps—moments of distance, disagreement, and growing pains—but we’ve come through with love intact. We’re okay. There is grace in that.

I am also the mother of two daughters who were taken from this life far too soon. One of those relationships, with my eldest daughter, was strained for many years. We were often out of sync—two women carrying wounds that collided more than they connected. But before she died, something sacred happened. Through spiritual and emotional work, we found our way to reconciliation. Forgiveness opened a door we once thought was closed. We didn’t get forever, but we got healing. And that changed everything.

Now, I watch her two children, young adults, navigating life without their mother. Their grief is still present, still raw at times. They miss her deeply, and their pain reminds me that the bond between a mother and child continues long after death. As a grandmother, I carry not only my sorrow but also witness theirs, and together we hold her memory in ways that keep her spirit close. Love ripples across generations, even through loss.

And yet, May is not only a time for grieving. It is also a time of honoring and celebrating. For those who had loving, affirming relationships with their mothers, what a blessing it is to have known that kind of security, tenderness, and joy. Your memories are treasures. May they continue to light your way and bring warmth to your heart in every season.

To those who are now caregivers—tending to aging parents, raising grandchildren, supporting others through illness or transition—you embody the spirit of mothering in the truest sense. You may not always be celebrated, but your presence, patience, and sacrifice are sacred work. You are love in motion, and your care leaves a mark that will be remembered.

So much of grief work is not about “getting over” a loss—it’s about learning to live honestly within it. My grief has taught me to honor the whole truth: the complexity of the love I gave and received, the missteps, the mending, and the miracles. And perhaps most importantly, grief has shown me that it’s never too late for transformation.

This Mother’s Day, I honor the beauty and the brokenness. I honor the mothers who tried and the mothers who failed, the daughters who endured and the daughters who forgave. I honor those who love with open hearts and those who are still learning how. I honor the ones who are giving care now—quietly, daily, faithfully. And I honor myself, a mother, still a mother even in grief.

“Love knows not its depth until the hour of separation.”

--Kahlil Gibran

To those carrying grief into Mother’s Day: be gentle with your heart. To those holding joy and gratitude, rejoice in your memories and moments. Whether you are missing your mother, honoring her legacy, nurturing another, or healing from a painful bond-your love matters. Your journey matters. And there is always room for healing, even in the most unexpected places.