What Mother’s Day Means To A Motherless Daughter

As Mother’s Day approaches every year, I am brought back to the day in 2003 that I lost my mom. I was blessed to be with her for eighteen years of my life before she was taken from me far too early.

Without getting into too many personal details, my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer when I was eleven years old – my brother was only eight. She fought and fought as hard as she could, but ultimately, breast cancer won the fight.

After her first diagnosis, she had surgeries, had chemo, had radiation, had anything that would keep her with us as long as possible. She won round one and the cancer went away and she was in remission. A few years later, the cancer came back, but this time in her lymph nodes. She fought and fought once again and won round two. But then the cancer came back for the last and final time, this time in her lungs, somewhere where doctors couldn’t do anything to help her.

Let me tell you. I can still remember that day. It’s probably one of two days that I’ve ever seen my dad cry and it is forever etched in my memory.

At this point, I was in college. I had just started my freshman year and thankfully, my mom had gotten the pleasure of dropping me off there that summer. During the school year, we talked on the phone almost every day. I called her to tell her about the new friends I’d made, the tests I’d had, and how I loved being in college.

I was having the time of my life and my mom was at home, fighting for hers.

I still remember the day that someone from my dorm came to tell me that my dad had called and that I needed to go home – there wasn’t much time.

My heart sank.

I cried.

This was it.

My new friends, whom I had known for mere months, rallied around me and brought me home. It was about an hour-ish drive. My roommate’s hometown was only about an hour from mine. My friends dropped me off at home and went to my roommate’s house for the weekend.

I remember arriving home and not knowing what I would walk in on. Unfortunately, I was a little too late. I came home and my mom had already passed. I cried and cried and cried some more and then I gathered all my strength and I said my final goodbye.

After a few days at home with my family, I went back to school. I won’t lie. It was tough. Those first few days and weeks and months were HARD. I would hear my roommate talk to her mom on the phone and I would be mad. I would be jealous. How come SHE could talk to her mom and I couldn’t? It was HARD. I knew it was nothing that she had done wrong. It was nothing any of us had done wrong, but I was still angry that it happened to me.

The days, weeks, months, and years went on. Holidays came and holidays went. Uncelebrated Mother’s Days came and uncelebrated Mother’s Days went. My brother graduated from high school. I graduated from college. I moved to Southern California. I started my first grown-up job. I broke up with my college boyfriend and I met someone new.

That someone new eventually ended up being the person that I would marry. Then came my wedding and my mom wasn’t there. Such a special day and moment in my life and I couldn’t share it with her. To honor her, we got married on her birthday. And we lit a candle in her memory. That day will forever hold a special place in my heart for more than one reason.

The days, weeks, and months went by again and we found out we were expecting a baby!

SUCH A JOYOUS TIME and yet a piece of me couldn’t be 100% happy.

I was about to become a mom and I didn’t have a mom to share that joy with. By now, my mom had passed away almost eight years prior. Of course, I miss her and think about her daily, but it was easier. I had accepted what happened and moved on. But then things in your life happen and you’re brought right back to that moment one more time.

Being a mom is one of the BEST things that has EVER happened to me. I never knew as much joy as I did when I held my son in my arms for the very first time. I had known him for a mere two minutes and it felt like a lifetime. That moment, that day, I couldn’t physically share with my mom, but I know she was there. I know she got to experience the joy of her first grandchild being born.

It’s been a little over thirteen years now since I lost the ability to physically be with my mom, but now? Now I know she is with me all the time.

I know she is looking down on me and is so proud of the woman and the mom I have become.

I live life the way I know she would want me to. She was the strongest and bravest women I have ever known and if I am even half the person she was, I know I am doing something right.

Just knowing that my mom is looking down on me, smiling, and is so proud of the woman and mom I have become is the best gift I could be given on Mother’s Day.