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Yesterday I spoke on the phone with a mom friend who is grieving.
It is not the first time she and her family have experienced the sort of invisible loss that so many women silently walk through, often alone, with little to show for their struggle but a pair of faint pink lines on a stick.
I know this pain, and if you’re reading this, perhaps you do, too.
My sweet friend admitted that this will be a hard Mother’s Day because there is an empty place in their family that previously had been filled with so many hopes and dreams.
To be sure, Mother’s Day is a day to celebrate — the flowers and the cards and the brunches, the breakfast in bed and pampering and (my annual Mother’s Day request) siblings getting along with one another.
Mothers and mother figures play such a valuable role in our society, and I am thankful for the many in my life who have imparted wisdom to me through the years. I will certainly spend my Mother’s Day being thankful for them.
But Mother’s Day, for some, is not all sunshine and rainbows. There are many among us who are grieving mothers, who are grieving children, who are grieving dreams of the motherhood we thought we would have but do not.
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What does one do when Mother’s Day is not the neat and tidy picture we feel it should be? When we’re scrolling through our social media feeds and see happy family pictures and want to have joy but can only seem to muster ambivalence at best, bitterness at worst?
What do you do when a well-meaning stranger walks up to you in the grocery store and says “Happy Mother’s Day!” and your day is anything but?
I write this for my friend and everyone out there who is cognizant of empty places as they observe Mother’s Day this weekend.
Last month, I sat down to interview a local young man who will be celebrating Mother’s Day without his wife and unborn daughter , who died in their sleep just weeks before the baby was due.
I suppose some would consider it a questionable call to write about a grieving father on Mother’s Day. To me, after reading this man’s heart in his social media posts, it was an obvious choice.
What struck me about Justin was the way he talked with such love and tenderness about his wife and only child. In the middle of his grief and struggles with the unexpected blow of sudden loss, he found consolation and joy in his memories of them.
His wife, Nellie, and daughter, Ellie, will not be present with him this Mother’s Day, but Justin’s love for them makes them so very real. And perhaps that is what I would like to convey.
I think Justin got it right — he acknowledged the lives dear to him and reflected upon how they made him a better man.
He channeled his grief into sharing their story, and I felt honored to be a recipient of his words.
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If you, like my friend, or like Justin or like any number of other people, are struggling to celebrate this Mother’s Day, may I remind you of something?
They may not be here, but you can talk about them. You can remember the funny stories and the way their hair was frizzy on humid days and what you were doing when you found out they existed and how they changed your life.
Maybe you never even saw their face; maybe you spent decades under their roof. Maybe you’re not happy with how your goodbye went and you struggle with that. Find something — or someone — good and be thankful for that today. Find someone to listen and tell them the stories. (You can send me an email, I love stories.)
It is absolutely OK to grieve on Mother’s Day. I imagine most of us celebrate this weekend with a tinge of sadness from somewhere along our journeys. But let us, as we are able, create spaces to honor those empty places with acknowledgement and love.
Whoever you are, whatever joys or sorrows you're feeling this Mother's Day weekend, please know that your stories and experiences have value. And I am cheering for you as you share them.
Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com , but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.
This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Abbey's Road: To those grieving this Mother's Day, that's OK; your memories have value
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