Mother’s Day In The Shadow Of Grief: Learning To Celebrate While Healing.
Mother’s Day was so different before death came knocking at our door. It was the kids serving me breakfast in bed while their dad was at the door smiling, handmade cards, and sneaky kisses between the chaos of motherhood. But now, it falls in a season that feels both sacred and heavy — only a few days before the anniversary of the hardest goodbye I’ve ever had to say. This one day, once full of joy and laughter, now holds space for both love and loss. What I’ve learned is….that’s okay, too.
I never imagined I’d mother through so much pain and grief.
I never imagined I’d carry the weight of my own heartbreak while still showing up and being present for my babies with soft hands and sometimes, a loud and strong voice.
But here I am—doing it, one step and one breath at a time.
This Mother’s Day doesn’t come with ease. It comes with memories I didn’t ask for, silence where laughter used to be, and the ache of knowing he won’t be here to remind the kids to make me a card or hide the flowers he had gotten for me in the car.
It comes with the countdown to May 15th, the day everything changed.
But it also comes with moments of unexpected beauty.
My toddler’s arms wrapped tightly around my neck while carrying his dad’s smile, my bigger babies telling me they got me. The way grief has softened them too is honestly scary and crazy all at the same time, it made them more compassionate and more aware. Sadly, it made them grow up much quicker than I wish.
I’ve learned to receive what’s here…To let go of the pressure for a “perfect” day and embrace the truth of what this day means now.
It means I’m still here.
It means I’m still mothering, even when my heart feels broken.
It means I’m allowed to cry and laugh, to remember him and celebrate me.
On Mother’s Day, I Honor:
The Mother I was before loss—full of dreams and wide-eyed joy
The mother I became in the aftermath—exhausted, grieving, but still standing
And the mother I am now—healing, growing, and loving fiercely, in his honor and my own
If this day feels hard for you too—know you’re not alone. You are seen. You are held. And you are doing beautifully, even in the mess.
To all the widowed moms, grieving moms, moms who are doing it alone—this day is for you, too. Your motherhood is not defined by perfection, but by presence. And the fact that you keep showing up…is more than enough.
—La 💙
