Hope Edelman

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A Mother’s Day Letter to Motherless Daughters

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Dear Friends,

It’s a cloudy yet bright day in Los Angeles, the kind of day where it feels like anything can happen – a light drizzle can begin, the temperature can drop without warning, or a shaft of sun might break through and bathe us all in light. The kind of day that reminds you that whatever you’re seeing right now, whatever seems fixed and immutable, can change.

Or maybe I’m just in a funky mood because of what happened this morning.

I’ll explain.

7 a.m., Los Angeles time, and I’m padding around the kitchen in my pajamas with a mug of freshly-brewed coffee clutched to my chest. My older daughter has just left for high school, and my younger daughter and my husband are sleeping. In five minutes they’ll wake for the day. Until then I have the house to myself, to luxuriate in the brief silence before the day begins. I’ve set aside this morning to write this annual Mother’s Day letter, but I’m not sure what to say. For more than twenty years I’ve been talking and speaking about mother loss, extending words of encouragement and hope to young women whose losses are fresh and older women whose losses still smolder. Because that’s how it works, right? The fire of grief doesn’t burn forever, but the embers never die. Motherless daughters are reminded of this all the time – at graduations, weddings, births, deaths, birthdays, anniversaries, on Thanksgiving and Mother’s Day. Especially on Mother’s Day, when our thoughts naturally turn to the one who isn’t there, the one who left too soon.

I take a sip of coffee. One of the cats, the big, lazy one who loves my husband best, stretches on his way up the stairs and yawns. And then, from upstairs in the office, come the loud, mechanical clunks of the ink-jet printer gearing up to do its thing.

That’s weird, I think. Who’s printing at this hour?

I walk into the office as the sheet of paper starts emerging into the tray. Creatively Use and Respond to Change, it says at the top, and right underneath, “Vision is not seeing things as they are, but as they will be.”

Has my daughter had woken early to print something for school? Some uber-sophisticated 7th grade philosophy treatise? No – when I open her door, she’s still asleep. And in our bedroom, my husband is an immobile mass under the white duvet cover. So it’s not him, either. Huh.

Here’s a secret (because what the hell, I’m getting too old to keep secrets any more): Left to its natural state, my mind veers toward the mystical. As educated, as scientific, as cynical and jaded as I often am, as rational and systematic as I try to be, underneath it all I really do believe in magic in real life. Weird stuff happens. Weird stuff happens all the time. The hard part is giving ourselves permission to pay attention without feeling ridiculous, or ashamed, or bat-shit crazy for thinking this way. So I’m just going to give myself permission this morning.

Creatively Use and Respond to Change. Vision is not seeing things as they are, but as they will be.

Thank you, dear god of the ink-jet printer, for your inexplicably unsolicited wisdom. Because what is the experience of the motherless child if not a constant, creative, lifelong response to change? Our mothers are here, and then they are not, and much of what follows is an attempt to adapt to a world without them (and to whatever collateral damage they may have left behind). For some of you, that path will be strewn with obstacles. Maybe some big ones. They may feel insurmountable. You may want to give up. You may feel that way right now.

Please don’t give up. Here’s why.

Because those of us just slightly further down this path, by now we know that what is will not always be. Change is a constant. And thank god for that. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, soon after my mother died, I would console myself through hard times by thinking, “Nothing lasts forever. Whatever is happening now will change. I just need to get to tomorrow” or “I just need to get to next Tuesday and I’ll be on the other side” or “I just need to make it one more year and everything will be different.” And then I’d remind myself to get there one day at a time. Or one hour at a time, if that’s what it took. And hour by hour, day by day, Tuesday by Tuesday,– circumstances did change. Usually for the better, but not always. And then those situations eventually changed as well.

Those of you whose mothers have recently died, who are still immersed in the necessary and normal stage of acute grief – for you, I know, it’s hard to believe that the pain you’re feeling will lessen over time. It takes up so much of you right now, I remember. It may even help you still feel close to your mothers. I remember that part too, and it was hard to let that go. But please, let it go when you’re ready. This sorrow won’t always define you. Mother loss will always be part of your story, but it does not have to be your story. Your story is a gorgeous, unique tale that’s going to be full of highs and lows and pain and happiness, all the things it means to be human. You just got a heavy dose of the hard part too young.

You may feel now that your life will never be the same again. I won’t try to tell you otherwise. You’re right. A mother-sized hole will always exist in your life. But as the author Abigail Thomas has said, eventually you get used to never getting used to it. You recognize it as part of what has made you, you, and then you’re ready to move forward with that part integrated into your beautiful, complicated whole. This is the highest form of acceptance, I think.

The early loss of your mother has already set into motion a chain of events that are going to lead you to places you can’t even yet imagine. And you will, one day, be able to recognize good things that have come out of your loss, things that you cherish or are proud of, things that otherwise might never have occurred. In the 34 years since my mother died, some really bad shit has happened to me as a result (let’s block out most of my college years, shall we?), but some crazy good things have happened, too. Because she died I wrote Motherless Daughters, and because of that I met a motherless woman who introduced me to my husband, and 18 years later we have two daughters who have brought more joy and laughter into my life than pessimistic, worst-case-scneario little me ever thought possible. And because my mother died of undetected breast cancer so young (at age 42) I get regular check-ups and mammograms and do everything I can to preserve and maintain my health. I know it’s not all in my power. Still, I try. And when I sit at my older daughter’s high school graduation next month, a milestone my mother never got to celebrate with any of her three children, it will be perhaps the greatest accomplishment of my life thus far, just the simple act of being there. I have outlived my mother’s age by eight years now, and I wake up every morning so damn grateful just to be alive. Of all the gifts my mother gave me from her life and death, gratitude may be the most important one of all.

Newly motherless daughters: you may not feel any of this yet. I remember that part, too. But I promise you – I promise, I promise, I promise – that whatever you feel now will change. Whatever upsurge in emotion you may have this weekend is normal and understandable and real. If you feel the overwhelming urge to run from it, that’s okay. You get to call the shots. You wait till you’re ready. It’ll still be there when you are. But if you can bear the pain, I encourage you to embrace it as part of your journey. The pain means you loved your mother. It means you miss her. It means you are honoring what she gave you. Or mourning what you never had. And know that it will pass.

Outside my office door, the sun just broke through the clouds. I swear to you, this is true. (Granted, I’m a slow writer, so a lot of time has passed. But still.) See? Everything changes, it really does. Vision is not seeing things as they are, but as they will be. The same, I believe, can be said about hope.

Love and sisterhood to all of you on this weekend and always,

Hope xxo

* For a list of Motherless Daughters support groups in the U.S. and Canada, please click here. *

 

Comments

  1. Thank you, a beautiful piece of writing. Hope, your book was realeasedtne year i lost my mum, i was 18 at the time and it was then so important to me and mow, 21 yrs later i still go backto it. Thank you so much

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  2. Thank you! I read your book when my mother passed away years ago and it still brings peace to know I am not feeling this alone. God bless you!

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  3. Your book Motherless Daughters saved me when I was just out of college and lost my mother to a 15 year battle with cancer. I didnt know how to deal with the grief, I was the first of my friends to lose a mother and I felt so alone. Thank you for your work and support and most of all for your book. Write on sister!

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    • mine died suddenly,the result of an auto accident. this was in 1950. some things never leave us, the white rose given to my sister and me at church on mothers day, when almost everyone else got a red one meaning their mom was alive. we felt different enough, this did not make it any better. but as the years have passed, i am thankful for my children and grandchildren which are such a blessing. some day i believe there will be a reunion for all of us that have lost loved ones.

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      • I’ve heard about the white carnations from many women who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. Makes you wonder: what on earth was everyone thinking, making motherless girls wear red ones? Really glad that tradition was left in the past.

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        • Hi, Hope,
          I grew up during this time also. Every Mother’s day, after Mass, carnations were given out. To anyone whose mother was living a pink carnation was given. My sister and I were given white carnations, signifying that our mother was deceased. I remember feeling that we stood out in the crowd. My sister was five and I was seven when our mother died ( she was 33). She had gone into the hospital for a minor surgery. A test was ordered, performed incorrectly and killed her instantly. The memory is seared into my brain. I think of her every day and wonder what it would have been like to have a mom.

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  5. I lost my Mom 25 years ago (I was 16) and read your book many years ago. You make so many incredibly valid points and hit the nail on the head each and every time. I am so glad I came across this blog today. Thanks for sharing your insight, it is amazing to know that the motherless journey is something that we don’t suffer alone. Happy Mother’s Day!

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  7. I read your book Motherless Mothers after my second child was born and I still turn to it. Thank your this piece. Seventeen years and I still have a hole, but the pain isn’t as raw.
    I appreciate you and your writing.

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    • Thanks Hope,
      I was unable to talk about my mum after she died, as my new step mum did not allow it. So after buying your book and a whole life time I began to mourn my mum in 2007, from when I was 13, in 1972. Only now some things are coming back to me. Like how I felt and how I reacted to having to live with a bother and his unwelcoming wife. Your book, (as Ive said before) was so comforting, knowing so many other Motherless women had the same feelings and experiences. As you write this letter, I am about to write the Mother’s day card I pick out for my Mum, and place it on my mantlepiece. Just for her. I have been doing this the past few years, and it is very comforting. Love June.x

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      • Hi June,

        I just had to write to you after reading this post. I was also 13 when my mother died (1980) and also not able to discuss her and what happened to me until well into my adulthood. My mother’s middle name was June (her birthday was June 9) and it is also my daughter’s middle name. I hope you are well! Cheers, Megan

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  9. Hope,

    Your letter is comforting. At first when my Mom died of Breast Cancer in 1989, I was consumed by grief. I kept working, doing triathlons and runs for Breast Cancer. A couple of years later I ran the 26.2 miles in the SF Marathon. Training on a path by Lake Elizabeth in Fremont, CA where we use to walk together. It gave me time to connect with her spirit while I was running. On those rainy dark nights it felt like she was still with me. Not in a way where I could see her, but in the way that our Mother’s love and protect us. She was born and raised in Ireland. When I went there on vacation in 2010 it was as if she was making things happen or trying to let me know she was with me in spirit again. In the past 26 years that has happened at these key moments, and then other times it will just be something she said when she was alive that will pop in my head. I think if we pay attention we can tap into the energy of love and connection that is eternal.

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  10. I have never heard of this book before. My mum died in November 2009 and my dad died in 2012 I never did any grieving for either of them or any of the other things in my life and I have just turned 43 years old in April this year and started the grieving process for all the above. Toward the 3quarter mark of reading the above that you wrote I started to cry I find it very hard to cry at all. So thank you.

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    • I am very sorry for your loss and i am glad you found some comfort in this article…..i wish good things for you

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  11. Thank you for your early Mother’s Day post. My mother passed away at the age of 45, in 1974. I was a senior in high school and I would have become lost if it wasn’t for my friends. Years passed, and when I was in my early 30’s I became aware of Motherless Daughters while browsing through a bookstore. To this day, I keep this book at my bedside – because it still brings comfort to me on the days I am sad – for I thought I was the only person who couldn’t remember the sound of my mother’s voice. Thank you Hope, for helping me realize I wasn’t alone in my feelings and thoughts. Peace and love, joanne

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  12. Thank you so much for this Mother’s Day Letter. I lost my mother right before I turned 20 in 1992. I read your book about three years later and I remember being appreciative that someone could actually put the twilight zone I felt I was living into a very insightful and very honest book. A book that did provide me with comfort when no one around me knew (including my two older brothers) what it was like to be living my life without her. To be reeling from the grief of a Mother gone way too soon at the age of 46. Years later through many trial and tribulations I am still here. A survivor. While it still feels some days I am in a Twilight Zone, my maturity allows me to process the loss better. Until…May of every year. When the commercials begin I Cringe, Grin and bear it and get through it. This year is different. I have this letter and it really helps me. Out of the blue I have been sad this year. Yearning for her. Wondering where is this even coming from? Aren’t I supposed to be Over this part? So, yes, a gentle nudge guided me to your words and I am grateful. As I read this tears-uncontrollable-formed and I remembered that book I had long forgotten about. I think I will go back and read it from the vantage point of a woman now in her 40s. Thank You So Very Much on behalf of Motherless Daughters everywhere.

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    • Dear Ms. New York State of Mind,

      Do you not see that you feel so overwhelmingly more than usual about your Mother’s Death, because you are upon the eve of becoming the age that she was when you lost her?

      In reading Hope’s book, years ago, I remember how stunned I was when I realized that for many, many years I never imagined living beyond the age of 41. For some reason, I never put together the fact that my own mother died at 41. Living past that milestone has given me courage and rendered me nearly fearless. From that moment of recognition with my mother’s age of loss, entertwined with my own magical thinking that I could not live past that age, combined with the fact that I did . . . makes every day such a gift since then. It makes me choose every day by my own choice and to follow my own Destiny.

      Best,

      Debbie

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      • Oh yes, Debbie. This is so very true. Women often have very profound emotional responses to reaching the age their mothers were when they died, and moving beyond it. I passed my mother’s age 9 years ago and it was a strange, strange year. I began by feeling afraid for my own health, but then my younger daughter came down with a mysterious illness and all of my fear and anxiety transferred onto the possibility of losing her. Fortunately, she is fine — though it took nine months to get an accurate diagnosis. I will say, though, that the years my mother never got to see are strange as well, knowing that I’m growing so much older than she ever got to be. And when my older daughter turned 17 — the age I was when my mother died — that was a very sad time for me as well, seeing how independent she was, yet how much she still needed support and guidance from a mother. It’s a lifelong journey, isn’t it? Thank you so much for posting. — Hope

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        • I lost my mother at the age of 11 and left home at 12 after being told it was worse to lose a wife than a mother.my sister and i were not allowed to talk about her as it was too painful for my father! So i suppose being young not understaning what was going on my grief turned into anger and rebellion. I became pregnant at 15 having my first child to a man that am still with 20 yrs on, i am thankful. Though the pain of losing my mother still carries strong through each separate milestone. I now am 42 with two older children and just became a grandmother for the 1st time our son having a baby girl.this mothers day my husband was away and i had a visit from my daughter and her partner and my son without his partner and his daughter. For some reason i have this overwhelming sense of sadness and hurt they they didn’t see me. I should have been thankful everyone says that i had my children come and visit though am still feeling the pain.particularly to the response from them that “whats the problem there was not enough time in the day and my mother comes first,everyone saw their children”. It is hard for anyone to understand which sometimes makes you feel even more alone.For the first time i now realise that i am finally grieving for my mother so many years on.

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  13. I read your book in 1991 when I thought my world was collapsing all around me. I lost my mother 21 years before that, and when my then mother-in-law and my maternal grandmother died, all the hell in me broke loose. I was driving to Trenton, NJ, listening to NPR and I heard you tell your story. Except that you were telling my story. And probably another motherless daughters’ story. Your book became a beacon for me. I carried it around and shared it with anyone who would listen to me. Needless to say, it was my game changer. Eventually I found my way into therapy to finally work on all of the dark shadows in my heart. And finally – the best part – I met you at a speaking engagement. You were human; easy. Well-spoken. Attractive. You were just another motherless daughter. And I was in your club. Thank you for giving a voice to all of us. I hope your Mother’s Day is whatever you want it to be. xo

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  14. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing as we head into this weekend.

    And I love your admission about believing in mystical things. I’m the same, logical, practical, analytical. Sometimes weird stuff just happens and those are times to open your heart and just listen.

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  15. Thank you for all of this… I lost my mom to lung cancer/and copd on April 6th 2015 this is my first mothers day without her

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    • I wish I knew something to say to you that would take away the pain you feel. But somehow I think I would be robbing you of the very normal and necessary grieving process. You must feel whatever it is that you feel but know you are not alone.

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  16. Hope, what a wonderful letter. My experience is almost identical to yours and all those same feelings I have had since my mother died at the young age of 44. I was 19. I struggled the year I turned 44 and passed her in age. I’ll be 49 this year. Every word of your letter rings true. I hope it reaches all those daughters who need to hear it.

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  17. I lost my Mom when I was 2 weeks old. I never knew anything about her, all I have are pictures, but no memories. I look just like her, but older now. She was 29 when she passed, I am now 56. I miss her every day and wish I could ask her things and talk to her about many things. I am envious of women who have mothers and complain about them. They should be grateful to have a Mom at all. Happy Mothers day to all.

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  18. Thank you for posting your blog, i lost my mom in August of 2012, it was unexpected. She had a lot of health problems she didn’t want my brother an I to worry about it so she kept to her self an her partner, yes my mother was lesbian. I had just turned 20 and my brother had turned 19, we were so close to our mom, my father not so much, we basically lived with our mom. But when she was put on oxygen, that’s when things started to get hectic, she became a different person, and she felt like a burden to both my brother an i, which she wasn’t, i was so happy that i still had my best friend by my side.Though we had our little mad spells, like any other mother/daughter relationship, i long for those, that was our way of loving one another, i miss her so much and is it normal for me to be so overwhelemed with this greif, i never got to say goodbye to her, that’s my biggest regret, she passed so fast, we had her cremated because we didn’t have money to bury her like she would have wanted too, and i just feel as though we both failed her in someways, and i just wished i could let go without letting her go if that makes sense? I just don’t have a mother figure in my life, and it’s hard now. But reading your blog did cause some emotion an relieved some tension,i thank you for trying to help those who need it.

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  19. Thank you for the Hope, Hope. I read your book with four other motherless daughters in a support group over 15 years ago. 5 strangers became long time friends and you were the catalyst for supporting each other.

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  20. Thank you Hope for the Mothers Day letter. I will buy your book. My mim died in 1990 when I was 40. She had a heart attack and died suddenly. I felt for a long time that someone had shot a cannon through me. The pain lessens somewhat. Its nust different. Thank you.

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  22. My mother passed in January after many years of illness. The month prior, my mother-in-law passed due to negligence at our local hospital. Oct. 15, 2013 (my wedding day) we lost my “other mom”, my best friend’s mother, to injuries from a terrible car accident. All three in less than 2 years. The last few months especially have been very rough….so many times I’ve wanted to call one of them for advice, or just to chat, but I can’t. I’ve been dreading this weekend. Thank you for your letter, hearing from those in the same boat helps a bit. I’ll have to track down your book and share it with my best friend.

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  23. as bad as it is to be a motherless mother, it is also horrible to lose my son of 18yrs. Old. Mothers Day breaks my heart, because I’ve lost both my son and my mom! I’d love to cancel Mothers Day for ever!
    Jan.

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    • Oh Jan, I’m so very sorry to hear about your son. Sending you very best wishes for the most peaceful weekend possible.

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  24. Hope, as a Nurse Pschotherapist, I’ve given your books to many clients. Motherless Mothers and Motherless Daughters have been meaningful to many who were adopted and estranged from their mothers as well. There is comfort and strength in knowing we are not alone. Thank you for your wisdom and words. JL

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  26. Thank you, thank you, thank you a million times for sharing this. I lost both of my parents less than 5 years ago (one to Ovarian CA, and one to Prostate CA – I’ll let your intellect ID who had which cancer). I am 27 years-old now, and I still feel like a child, sometimes, especially during Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. This post gave me hope. Thank you.
    I wrote my own blog about a Motherless Mother’s Day, which I’d like to share, if you’ll let me. It’s slightly NSFW, as I tend to swear like a sailor. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.

    https://heartsoulstomach.wordpress.com/2015/05/09/happy-motherlesss-day-things-you-should-and-should-not-say-to-the-motherless-on-this-kindofawful-holiday/

    xoxo
    Allison

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  27. My mother died in 1983, five days before my 10th birthday. I still remember my first Mothers’ Day without her. I was told not to make the class gift, and instead just sat in the back of class while everyone else made their gift.
    My dad took me fishing that weekend, and we didn’t talk about her or even mention the holiday. It’s as if mother’s didn’t exist anymore. But of course, everyone else had a mother. I was always the girl whose mother died. Known by an event that happened to me. Something bad which won me stares and questions or mumbled apologies with eyes averted and quick changes of the subject.
    I still despise this day. I never knew there were support groups, or your book. Years of therapy finally made it possible for me to attend Mass on Mothers’ Day without having a panic attack, but tears are still barely containable.
    Her death fundamentally changed my life and the pain today is not diminished from my grief 32 years ago.
    Blessings to those women who have gone through this and come out the other side. I’m still wading.

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  28. My mother died a few months ago when I was 8 months pregnant with my 2nd daughter. I am equally amazed at my strength as I am by the power of my grief. Thank you for your book and your words.

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  29. My mother died in 1983, five days before my 10th birthday. I still remember my first Mothers’ Day without her. I was told not to make the class gift, and instead just sat in the back of class while everyone else made their gift.
    My dad took me fishing that weekend, and we didn’t talk about her or even mention the holiday. It’s as if mothers didn’t exist anymore. But of course, everyone else had a mother. I was always the girl whose mother died. Known by an event that happened to me. Something bad which won me stares and questions or mumbled apologies with eyes averted and quick changes of the subject.
    I still despise this day. I never knew there were support groups, or your book. Years of therapy finally made it possible for me to attend Mass on Mothers’ Day without having a panic attack, but tears are still barely containable.
    Her death fundamentally changed my life and the pain today is not diminished from my grief 32 years ago.
    Blessings to those women who have gone through this and come out the other side. I’m still wading.

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  30. Thank you for writing this. My mom died nine years ago from ALS, only a year after being diagnosed. I was 37. I rarely talk about it because it’s just too painful. We were always close, even through my teen years. She was my best friend. My kids were 3 and 9 when she died. She was determined to make it to my daughter’s 3rd birthday. She made it plus 6 days. She was and would have been the kind of grandmother everyone dreams of. There have been a few difficult times with my son, where I cry because I know she would have helped him in a way we couldn’t. There are many times with my now 12 year old daughter (her name is Hope), that I’m scared I won’t have the same relationship with her that my mom and I had. But, what gets me through the loss is knowing how lucky I was to have such a wonderful mom and to have had her as long as I did. I’m sorry for such a rambling message, I just felt comfortable expressing myself here. I usually keep all of this “in a box” and buried. Thank you again for writing the letter and for helping so many motherless moms. -Meridith

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  31. Thank you Hope for you insights. As a grandmother, I am raising 2 motherless daughters since they were ages 3 and 8. It has been 6’years now. Mother’s Day is very difficult for us. Today as everyone is sleeping still and after reading all the responses to your blog, I still am not ready to celebrate Mother’s Day. My mom died in 2007, my daughter in 2009 and my son in 1993. Mothers Day can be a sad day here. Waiting for my little girls to awake. I know the now 10’year old has made a gift for grandma at school. Thanks again Hope

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  32. Thank you so much for this post and your books too. I am 21 and lost my mom a few months ago. I am a SR in college and just survived my 1st semester without her. It is so hard to get through, especially when I am the eldest of four daughters (my sisters are 8, 14, and 19). Your pieces help me get through because they represent hope and reassure me that I will make it, even if I just take it one day at a time.

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  33. Thanks for the hope, Hope 🙂 Sound like vision and acceptance are the keys to moving forward. So let’s go.

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  34. Just want to tell all of u how sorry I am to hear u all stories my grandmother passed away in 2006 I was 7 month prangent with my son who is now 81/2 she died if cancser and it hurts to see how hard my mom crys on Mother’s Day I don’t know how it feels to lose a mom but I know how hard it Is to lose a dad,grandmother,a step dad my prayers and thoughts r with u all

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  35. Thank you, Hope. Your book has been a life saver. I’m still waiting to get to that highest form of acceptance. I had just turned 20 when I lost my mom, and I’ll be 27 this year. Her death has punctured my life into two parts. I feel like I have to learn to re-live again.. because I have never actually lived without her. My “old life” bears no resemblance to this new life. I don’t even feel like the same person, my personality has changed. I feel like I should be farther along in my grieving process, and that people expect me to be farther along. I honestly feel the pain like it was yesterday, it feels like it gets harder. There are more and more memories being created without her here. I keep going through more of life’s “milestones” without her and I hate it.

    My mom won’t be there to help me pick out a wedding dress. She won’t be there on my wedding day. She won’t be a grandma or be there when I have kids, or watch them grow and shower them with love. She won’t be there for the small or little things. I can’t pick up the phone and call her, like I used to every day. She wasn’t there on my graduation day, or when I got my first “big girl job.” Holidays aren’t quite as cheerful.

    I can’t seem to move on with my life. I haven’t dated anyone. I can’t even imagine getting married without her there. I think that I don’t want to start this “new life” because it will just confirm that she’s gone. I don’t want to experience it without her. And yet other days I feel like I’m putting on a facade, and act like I’m fine. I have graduated college, gone to grad school, and moved to LA for a new job, all without my mom. But I still feel like I’m standing still, walking through mud. I’m moving through life but not really enjoying it. My dad never talks about her and he turned to drinking for the first four years. I feel like an orphan, and I get so mad and angry when I see everyone else with their mothers. I know there are so many motherless people out there like me, in their early 20’s, and yet I feel so alone.

    Sending strength to all the motherless daughters out there. No one else “gets it” like we do. <3

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  36. I lost Mom two years ago May 22. One day after my 50th birthday. Her last mother’s day was full of pain and suffering from cancer so we didnt do any more than sit together. This past Mother’s Day was a trip to the cemetery again, still trying to make sense of it all. I sit now sobbing tears as i write this. The pain of losing her hasnt gone but it does change. God bless all of you in your journey though this. Thanks for the words that put some of it into perspective.

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  38. I write to you all the way from India. I lost my mum when I was a few days old. I have never known her and yes there is a very big void in my life. I can feel the pain now when I am married and have 2 small children, I mourn for her all the time now. I don’t know if I can cope now or when I can be comfortable, may be never!
    I managed to purchase your book and get it delivered in India and was able to rationalize so many things, even though the cultural differences between US and India are huge. I cannot thank you enough for putting this together and giving me the comfort that I am not alone..
    Love and god speed to you.

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  39. I also lost my mother to undetected breastfeeding cancer in my twenties, and reading this brought tears to my eyes and an upheaval of emotion in my heart I would not expect a blog to bring. I will be purchasing your book, thank you

    Reply

      • I first read your book Motherless Daughters, in the 1990s. It answered questions and I had a grief reaction, the likes of which I have not known before or after. My mom died at 45 when I was 19. We had lived with my grandparents, who helped me through the funeral, etc. My mothers brothers and their wives informed me 2 days after my mother died that I could not rely on them for anything. I hadn’t planned on it, but the message was not comforting. So, I have made my mistakes and learned and raised my two children alone. When my mother’s brothers and their wives started dying at ages 85, 93, 95, and 84, I have had trouble knowing how to offer condolences. They had long lives. They helped their children into adulthood. They became grandparents and great grandparents. They had family gatherings with sibs, uncles, aunts, and cousins. I work as a therapist. I think I chose this profession because I was born to it. When I give your book to clients, the responses are immediate and emotional and life changing. I have not been able to retire because of divorce and the need to support myself and my children and to earn 2 degrees to support myself. I will be happy next year when I can retire. I am grateful to have lived to 72 and hope to live long enough to enjoy retirement. Thanks.

        Reply

  40. Hope,
    Thanks so much for your inspiration. Thanks to all the comments from other ladies as well. My Aunt sent me one of your quotes today and my heart was filled with joy….I thought, I’m not alone. Your quote: “When a mother dies, a daughter’s mourning never completely ends.” This is absolutely true! I can always feel my mother’s spirit in song’s at church, in shapes in the clouds or just whispers. Mom lost her battle with Alzheimer’s on March 5th, 2015 at the age of 79. I love her with all my heart…my mother, my angel. May God bless and comfort all who have lost their mother. Thanks again,
    Marsha

    Reply

  41. I lost my 58 year old beautiful mother in April, 4 months after finding out she was sick with colon cancer. My life changed forever! My first Mother’s Day without her. Five months on and the pain is still raw and always wondering when will the tears run dry. I love my mum with all of me, she was my best friend,she was the ‘go person’. I have 2 teenage children and it breaks my heart even more as they loved her too and trying to understand and deal with her loss. Thank you for your letter, it was very comforting to read and will be buying your book’ Motherless Mothers’.
    Thanks again.

    Reply

  42. Thank you Hope for this beautiful post, you are speaking to the young girl in me when I lost my mother…I am 54 and lost my mother when I was 18. My father had been deceased 6 years prior and I felt…and was…alone, even with all my siblings. I was a senior in High School and had to be self supportive and my own guardian. There was zero closure with my parents before they passed…my mother’s illness (she had leukemia) was kept a secret from me until the week before her passing. At that point, she was unable to communicate. I have dealt with the bundle of grief, anger, forgiveness …. wash and repeat …. always trying to find a way to complete it or a place for it. My life stalled when my mother died and I have only come to this realization recently. I feel so strongly that I need to find a way to reach out to those suffering with the same loss and somehow that will lead me to my true north. God bless you for all you have done for so many of us and those yet to come.

    Reply

  43. Hi hope!
    i write you from italy, i had read your book one year ago, when i read it i thinked that all of me, all of my life was described here. I’m 23 and my mum is dead from 9 years. But i’m feeling like i’m still here in the same point of 9 years ago.. i hope that one day will change, but i just want to said thakyou for all, your letter is so full of answer that all of us need

    Reply

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