In this heartfelt annual Mother’s Day address, Hope Edelman reflects on 40 years since her mother’s death, sharing personal memories and the enduring nature of mother loss. She emphasizes that grief is a lifelong, non‑linear process and that while we cannot change how loved ones died, we can choose how to carry their loss forward. Drawing on therapist Megan Devine’s ideas, Edelman introduces the "missing elements of grief"—gratitude, wisdom, wonder, humility, awe—and encourages embracing them alongside sorrow. She offers practical suggestions for honoring mothers on Mother’s Day, such as embodying admired maternal qualities, volunteering, or baking a favorite pie. The letter also highlights the supportive role of the Motherless Daughters community, recalling mentor Liz Perley’s daily gratitude practice and the collective mission of women helping women across 30 countries. Throughout, Edelman balances empathy for varied loss experiences with a hopeful call to alchemize sadness into purposeful action.
Chapters
Dear friends, dear readers, dear sisters of the heart, we've had quite a year, haven't we? As I sat down to write this annual letter to Motherless Daughters on Mother's Day, it's been impossible to do it without situating it in the larger context of the amount of loss and the altered realities that we've all experienced since Mother's Day last year. So many of us have lost loved ones in the past year. I know a large number of you are experiencing your first Mother's Day without your Some of you have lost your mom, and some of you have lost children recently or in the past, making Mother's Day this year a particularly tender one for you. Quite a few of you have lost your mom in the distant past, and you know what it's like to encounter this day coming up on the calendar year after year. You know the adjustments that continue over a lifetime. You know we never stop missing our moms. This July, July 12th will mark 40 years since my mother died of breast cancer at the age of 42. I was 17, my sister was 14, and our brother was 9. 40 years is a very long time. And yet there are still moments when I think of her death in a new way and the tears come again. I've never stopped missing her. I've never stopped wishing she were here. If she were alive, she'd be 83 years old now, and there's no way to know if she'd even still be alive. But in my mind, she exists and lives on as an eternal 42, taken too young. The best way that I've found over the years to honor the life that she did get to live is to be as engaged and attentive a mother, sister, and friend that I can be in my time here, and to be of service the larger world. My mother— we used to joke my mother was a professional volunteer. She was always going out in the evenings for meetings here and there, and, and she always put herself out there to help others, especially those less fortunate. And that was her greatest gift to me, and that's what I try to emulate in my daily life. Everyone here today represents a large sisterhood that shares a base of knowledge We all know that losing a mother is not a time-limited or linear experience. It is a lifelong process of adjustment and inner renegotiation and recalibration. When I was researching my most recent book, The After Grief— this is the COVID in the US— I discovered this was true for virtually anyone who had lost a close loved one in the past. We don't get over or get past or move on or put down our attachment to that person after they die. We continue to love and miss them forever. Of course we do. I like to paraphrase the therapist and author Megan Devine, who wrote It's Okay That You're Not Okay and is the founder of Refuge in Grief, who says that some things are not meant to be put down or gotten over. They are meant to be carried. And if I've learned anything in the past 40 years, it is this, that we may not have had a choice about when or how our loved ones died, but we do have a choice about how we will carry those losses forward. We may have felt helpless or powerless when or after our mothers died or left, but we have agency now as adults. We all have within us the ability to alchemize our sadness into something different, something stronger, something inspiring and empowering and helpful and enduring. Some of us can do or already have done this on our own, and some of us find hope in doing this in community, which is why we're here today. I'm often asked how a motherless daughter can spend Mother's Day, and the answer to that question is as individual as the person. We all had different relationships with our moms. We all have different personalities, different desires, different needs, different abilities. But one suggestion I can make is to think of which of your mom's qualities you admire most and which one you'd most like to emulate and carry forward. and make part of your own life story. And then think of a way to put this quality into action on Mother's Day weekend in some way, however small. Because my mother was a professional volunteer, I always try to spend at least a small part of the day being of service to others, and that often means answering emails from readers. So if you get an email from me on Mother's Day in response to one you sent, that's in memory of my mom. And because my mom loved to bake apple pie, I also try to bake one. when I can, or to eat a piece in her honor, which is more common for me these days. My hope this Mother's Day, as always, is that those of us further along on the path can be role models, cheerleaders, and supporters for those who are just stepping onto it. Motherless Daughters has always been about women helping women and lifting each other up. There are many ways to lose a mother. And some of you may have experienced ways of— causes other than death, like mental illness or addiction or abandonment, incarceration, or some other cause. Again, there is no easy way to lose a mother, no story that is better or worse than another's. They're all difficult, just for different reasons. It's tempting sometimes to focus on the emotional pain of mother loss, on what has been taken and can't be replaced, because a mother's love is irreplaceable. We all know that. But I'd like to just for a moment elaborate on some of the benefits that we can derive over time if we give ourselves permission to do so. These are what I call the missing elements of grief. And I call them missing because they don't get nearly as much attention as the hard or painful ones. And I know you're familiar with at least some of these missing elements. They include gratitude, appreciation for life, Wisdom, humility, wonder, awe. And I want to tell you, it's all right to feel these things. That feeling a strong sense of gratitude for the life you have doesn't mean you're grateful that your mother died. The human heart and brain are amazingly complex organisms. They're capable of feeling and thinking more than one thing at a time. We can be sad that our mothers aren't here and grateful for what her death eventually set into motion. As we say at Motherless Daughters retreats, 2 things can always be true. If your loss is very recent, you may not be at this place yet, and that's okay. Let the rest of us be models for you of what can be. For now, please be kind and gentle with yourself. We will meet you exactly where you are. And I'd like to share with you a quote by Marianne Rademaker that a friend sent to me just the other day. Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, I will try again tomorrow. This makes me think of my dear friend and mentor Liz Perley, who was the editor who acquired and cultivated the first edition of Motherless Daughters. The aftergrief is dedicated to her. Liz died in 2015. Liz herself was a motherless daughter, and she was interviewed for the book. In our interview, she shared with me that every night before she went to bed, she thanked God for giving her one more day and asked one— giving her that day and asked for one more. Every night she would ask for one more day. She felt that wasn't too much to ask for, and that one day plus one day plus one day eventually added up to a lifetime. So I and we, on behalf of the whole team behind this call and on the weekly Tuesday community calls that welcome new members every month, are grateful to be part of this very special one day with you. We hope you will take what you learn and experience today and share it with other women in 30 countries, because as Liz also taught me, One light plus one light plus one light eventually illuminates the world. We're wishing you a peaceful and meaningful Mother's Day with big love to you all.
