Brand building through storytelling

Women who miss their mothers

It’s been 20 years now since I last bought a Christmas gift for my mother—a hand-covered binder for her telephone book, in a pink and green paisley I knew she would love. To this day I look longingly at pretty baubles in shades of pink and green, her signature garden palette. I don’t want to own these things myself. I just wish I could give them to my mother.

For all of us with empty places at our Christmas table, this is the season of missing. I’ve been thinking lately about those of you who’ve lost someone because it’s clear from my daily Google statistics that grief is one reason people visit this site. I often wonder who you are and what brings those of you who know nothing about me. From the search terms you’ve used, I pick out clues. In honour of all the missed mothers, here’s a found poem from the searches of women who came here. Maybe one of the lines will be yours:

After my mother died nothing was the same

I am 54 years old and my mother just died

Watched mother die

I felt I wasn’t there when my mother died

My mom died I’m an only child what to do

Lessons I learned from my dying mother

Letter from a dying mother to her grown daughter

What do you say to your best friend after her mother dies?

This letter was the most heartfelt response to my mother’s death

Motherless daughter Christmas cards

Trying to move forward after mother died

How long do you miss your mother after she dies?

My mother died one year ago today memories

When your mother dies you lose a friend.


Posted by Rona

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