When Mother’s Day and Grief Collide: 5 Years After My Mom’s Passing

There’s something uniquely disorienting about when a day the world celebrates becomes a day your heart quietly braces itself to survive. Sunday, May 10 marked 5 years since my Mom passed away; and this year, that anniversary fell on Mother’s Day.

For many people, Mother’s Day means flowers, brunch reservations, greeting cards, and smiling family photos. But for others, it means standing in the greeting card aisle trying not to cry. It means hearing “Happy Mother’s Day!” while carrying a grief no one else can see. It means remembering hospital rooms, caregiving exhaustion, role reversals, final conversations, and the silence that came after. And if I’m honest, even after five years, grief still has a way of surprising me. Not because the pain is as sharp as it once was, but because love leaves an imprint. When someone mattered deeply to you, certain dates don’t disappear from your emotional calendar, they return -- quietly, powerfully, faithfully.

What I’ve Learned 5 Years Later

One of the biggest misconceptions about grief is the idea that healing means “getting over it.” You don’t “get over” someone you loved deeply. What actually happens is this:

• You learn how to carry both grief and life at the same time.

• You learn how to laugh again without guilt.

• You learn how to keep moving forward while still honoring the person you miss.

• You learn how to build a new rhythm around an absence you never asked for.

• And sometimes, you learn that grief itself can become part of your calling.

That has certainly been true for me.

When my Mom’s health declined and our relationship shifted into parent-child role reversal, I walked through a season that changed me forever. There were practical responsibilities, emotional exhaustion, moments of fear, moments of tenderness, moments I wish I had handled differently, and moments I will always treasure.

After my Mom passed, I realized something important:

There are so many people walking through caregiving, anticipatory grief, loss, and life transitions completely overwhelmed and feeling unprepared. That realization eventually became part of the foundation for The Life Strategies. Not because I had all the answers, but because I understood the journey.

The Problem With “Be Strong”

One of the reasons I’ve become so passionate about creating resources around grief and caregiving is because most people receive very little real guidance.

They’re told things like:

• “Stay strong.”

• “She’s in a better place.”

• “Everything happens for a reason.”

• “Time heals all wounds.”

Even well-meaning people often don’t know what to say, but grief is not a problem to solve -- it’s an experience to walk through. People don’t just need sympathy, they need support and practical help. They need permission to feel exhausted, confused, angry, relieved, grateful, heartbroken, numb, hopeful, and emotionally disoriented — sometimes all within the same hour.

That’s one reason I created my “First 7 Days” resources and grief support content. Because, in the earliest days after loss, people often cannot think clearly enough to even know what they need.

What Grief Has Taught Me About Life

Losing my Mom didn’t just teach me about grief, it taught me about life.

It taught me to:

• Stop postponing meaningful conversations

• Take more pictures

• Ask better questions

• Listen more carefully

• Value presence over perfection

• Care for my health while I still can

• Appreciate ordinary moments

• Extend more grace to caregivers

• Understand that life can change suddenly

And perhaps most importantly, it taught me that faith, hope, and love are not just comforting phrases. They become anchors, especially in seasons where you feel like you’re drifting emotionally.

To Those Struggling This Mother’s Day

If Mother’s Day was painful for you this year, I want you to know this:

• You are not strange for grieving years later.

• You are not weak because certain dates still hurt.

• You are not “behind” in healing.

Love doesn’t operate on a deadline, and grief often resurfaces around anniversaries, holidays, milestones, songs, scents, traditions, and unexpected memories -- that’s normal.

Sometimes healing looks like smiling through memories.

Sometimes healing looks like crying in your car before church.

Sometimes healing looks like buying flowers for a cemetery instead of a dining room table.

Sometimes healing simply looks like getting through the day, and that counts too.

What I Would Tell the Version of Me From 5 Years Ago

If I could sit beside the version of myself who had just lost her Mom, I would probably say this:

• You do not have to figure out the rest of your life this week.

• Rest when you can.

• Accept help when it’s offered.

• Drink water.

• Write things down.

• Take care of your body even when your heart hurts.

• Don’t rush major decisions.

• And don’t isolate yourself.
  

I would also tell her this:

One day, the very thing that broke your heart will help you help other people heal.

Moving Forward While Remembering

Five years later, I still miss my Mom ... I probably always will.

But, I also recognize something beautiful:

The love, lessons, strength, sacrifices, and faith she poured into me are still moving forward through my life and work. In many ways, every person I help through caregiving, grief, life transitions, nutrition, encouragement, or hope carries a small part of my Mom's legacy forward too.

And maybe, that’s part of healing:

• Not forgetting.

• Not pretending it didn’t hurt.

• But allowing love to continue multiplying beyond loss.

Mother's Day held hold both gratitude and grief for me, and maybe for you too. If it did, I hope you’ll remember this:

Grief is not only evidence of loss, it is also evidence that love mattered deeply.

Michelle