SOS: Mother's Day Is Coming and I Still Don't Know What to Do

For those of us without moms and/or dads, what are we supposed to do on mother's day and father's day?

I've answered this question for myself every year for decades now. It's hit differently over the years…since both of my grandmothers died. Since my father died, that's one less person to remember my mom. Since I've gotten to the age where it's somewhat unexpected that I don't have children of my own, or immediate plans to. Since I got divorced and no one got me proud dog mama cards anymore.

Every year, it's like trying to navigate a maze that keeps changing. Just when I think I've found a path that works, the walls shift, and I'm lost again. 

Here's what I've done in the recent past:

A service project:

If you've known me for a while, you may remember the years when I would fundraise around Mother's Day to build gift baskets for mothers with infants in intensive care. It was a beautiful project, and on actual Mother's Day I'd spend the mornings in the NICUs at Duke and UNC Hospitals.

The pros: It felt meaningful, gave me purpose, connected me to something that felt larger than my own grief.

The cons: I was so caught upand stressed about the logistics of fundraising and coordinating that I didn't process my own feelings at all– and it hit double hard afterward. 

Escaping:

I have traveled to the North Carolina mountains to escape to the woods for Mother's Day, eating in so as not to be out with all the people during the Mother's Day specials. I'd pack up my car with the pups, books, snacks, hiking shoes, and maybe a bottle of wine. I'd find a quiet spot where I wouldn't have to see all the "Happy Mother's Day" signs or overhear people talking about their brunch plans. I'd silence my phone and just be somewhere where the day could pass by me without constant reminders.

The pros:  No awkward conversations with servers asking about my Mother's Day plans. No brunches surrounded by happy families. Just trees and quiet.

The cons: Sometimes being alone with my thoughts made everything harder, not softer. 

Spending time with loved ones' parents:

I've spent many a Mother's Day with significant others' families. I’ve sat in on their Mother’s Day dinners and gorgeous picnics, gone shopping with the whole crew.

The pros:  Warmth, inclusion, feeling less alone.

The cons: Sometimes watching other people with their moms just highlighted what I was missing.

Netflix and crying:

I've stayed home and been mad at the world, eating takeout.

The pros:  Complete authenticity. No pretending. No forced smiles.

The cons: Sometimes wallowing alone left me feeling worse, not better. 

So where does that leave me?

What I've realized is that there's no perfect solution, just different approaches for different phases of grief. Some years I've needed connection, others solitude. Sometimes I've needed distraction, other times space to feel everything.

Maybe that's the thing about these holidays when you're grieving – they force you to check in with yourself. What do I actually need this year? Not what society tells me I should do, not what I did last year, but what might help me today?

This year, I'd love your thoughts: what do you do for Mother's Day and/or Father's Day if you've got a complicated, griefy relationship with those days? What has felt right for you at different times? What do you think I should do this year that weekend?

Because maybe the best way through this maze is together – sharing our wrong turns and dead ends (pun intended), celebrating when one of us finds a path that works, even if just for a little while. (After all, we're all just making this up as we go along.)