Mothers-In-Art

My family interred my grandmother’s ashes yesterday. At the graveside—at the cemetery—and while we were eating Barberton chicken and lemon cake, her faves—at my dad’s house after, we talked a lot about her and my mom, who died 11 (very long, very short) years ago.

My grandma’s been dead for a couple of weeks, but it didn’t occur to me until yesterday that there is nobody I have to call tomorrow. My mom, both my grandmas, my great grandmas… All gone. I’m motherless. My sister’s motherless. My dad is motherless—twice over, really.

It’s a weird position to be in. Since my mom died, I have occasionally wanted to know something that only she would know—often something about me. I’ve had a few small panic attacks realizing that Nellie was the last repository of a whole lot of information about my mom. There are also questions I wish I had asked her about our family’s past. There are relatives in West Virginia that we haven’t even notified yet because none of us still living know them and we haven’t found her address book yet.

My grandma’s been dead for a couple of weeks, but it didn’t occur to me until yesterday that there is nobody I have to call tomorrow. My mom, both my grandmas, my great grandmas… All gone. I’m motherless. My sister’s motherless. My dad is motherless—twice over, really.

It’s a weird position to be in. Since my mom died, I have occasionally wanted to know something that only she would know—often something about me. I’ve had a few small panic attacks realizing that Nellie was the last repository of a whole lot of information about my mom. There are also questions I wish I had asked her about our family’s past. There are relatives in West Virginia that we haven’t even notified yet because none of us still living know them and we haven’t found her address book yet.

But I also feel… lighter—unmoored from some obligations and from the past. I don’t even know what to say about, let alone what to write about it.

I know that Mother’s Day is hard for a lot of people. My mom died at the end of March and I was still in a haze when the holiday rolled around that year. My BFF took me to the brunch buffet at the local casino—this is the hot ticket on Mother’s Day in our weird little city, and Las Vegas was my mom’s happy place. I both really appreciated this and found the whole experience to be something akin to a bad trip. The first Mother’s Day after my pregnancy lost was also a tough one. This was long before I was married, the baby’s father was well out of the picture, a lot of people hadn’t even known that I was pregnant, and those who did seldom knew what to say or do. I was on mental health leave from my job and felt like I lived on a different planet than everyone else. Mother’s Day made me feel especially alien. These are my stories.

There are countless other, different stories. And, as a mother who knows a lot of mothers, I can say that Mother’s Day can be complicated even when we have solid relationship with our kids’ other parent(s); have children who are thriving; and a healthy relationship with our own mom. We might have to a Mother’s Day organize a celebration ourselves and then thank our family for it. Mother’s Day might be a moment when we discover that our partners and kids have no idea who we are. The likelihood that we’ll be doing whatever we’re doing while navigating multigenerational, inter-family needs and expectations is high on Mother’s Day.

This year, as I’m rolling into Mother’s Day without my mother (again) or her mother (for the first time), I’m thinking about other women in my life. They’re not maternal figures, exactly. Matriarchal figures might be right. I’m thinking about mentors and role models. And I’m thinking about people I like to call mothers-in-art.

I’ve written about some of my mentors before. My current role models are women who have learned how to keep their cool and their agency while dealing with horrible, hateful people operating in bad faith. I imagine that they would like to remain anonymous, because they are still doing the work. But I’d like to share a little bit about my mothers-in-art, and I encourage you to spend some time reflecting on your own this Mother’s Day—and maybe even thanking them if you can.

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