Mother’s Day Isn’t About Mom

When I was young, Mother’s Day was about making cards and giving simple, mostly handmade gifts; which Mom appreciated and treasured like priceless gems. Those gifts were eventually replaced with cards and occasionally flowers–more out of convenience than anything else. As the years passed, it became easier to simply place a phone call on Mother’s Day, yet there was never a time when I didn’t hear sincere joy in her voice the moment she recognized mine; exactly like every other time I called. And so, as my life became more complicated, my focus on my mom at Mother’s Day was reduced to simply that call. Even so, somehow she always made me feel like I had given her the world.

My mom was a simple soul. My fondest memories are filled with images of her sitting in her chair under the black lacquered Japanese lamp; knitting for hours—always with a cat snugly curled up on her lap, a pink nose poking out from under her latest project (I still have a box filled with sweaters she made for each of my children in the attic.) Her favorite entertainment was taking me out for shopping and lunch. It was our thing alone since my Dad hated shopping. While cleaning out my parent’s house after Dad died, I found one of my dresses still hanging in her closet. It was the dress worn under my high school graduation gown–the pink striped maxi with the flowy, tiered skirt that I loved. We searched high and low for the perfect find and it was left in my closet when I moved out. I had no idea she had kept it.  I guess she never could part with it.

She went to be with my Dad two years ago and I never dreamed I would miss her so much or how much I would wish I had done more to show my love for her. I understand now that Mother’s Day, had very little to do with my mom and everything to do with me. Knowing what I know now, I would have done things much differently. I would have put more effort and thought into special gifts instead of default flowers. I would have told her exactly how special she was and how much her unconditional belief in me empowered surprising strength during my most challenging hours.

But most of all, I would have  hugged her; as often as possible and made sure I was always the last to let go.

About The Author


Lover of reading, writing, sparkly things and whatever purrs, barks or flies. Former helicopter mom, co-dependent and enabler, I am addicted to walking, my family and my iWatch. Teacher by day and writer by night, I am clearly the one learning the most. Keeping it up until I get it right. Choosing joy one day at a time and sharing my journey so others can see why it might not be found if we don’t look for it. Thanks for stopping by!


  1. Charlie Sam | 30th Jul 16

    Made me cry. Beautiful. She knows.

    • Laura | 30th Jul 16

      Thanks so much! You are my first comment on this piece.I’m so happy you shared it with me.

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