Do you wish that Mother’s Day didn’t exist? I can feel it looming like dark clouds in the distance. What used to be a joyous celebration filled with surprises and treats is now a day of grief that begins to sting and slowly makes me go numb days in advance.

For some, Mother’s Day is perhaps the most painful holiday on the calendar. For others it’s Father’s Day, perhaps closely followed by Valentine’s Day. These seem to be the main three holidays that exist solely to focus on one person we love deeply.

The Pacific Northwest rain was its usual soft, misty self this morning as I walked through my neighborhood. I slowed to appreciate a neighbor’s pale purple hyacinth, since keeping plants alive is not my strength, and one particularly fat rain drop plopped on the top of my cheek and rolled down like a tear. Even the rain knows what’s coming.

It seems that advertising for Mother’s Day is everywhere–in emails, lists of the top gifts recommended by influencers, internet sidebar ads, shop windows, and front and center in the grocery store, with towering, bright displays of flowers, chocolates, and cards.

The Amazon homepage makes it easy, right? Moms are divided into categories there. The foodie mom. The fitness mom. The plant mom. The outdoorsy mom. The techy mom. The wellness mom. The travel mom. The pet mom. Even the homebody mom.

There is no category for the mom who died. I want that list. I want to click on an icon that says the dead mom, and find all the answers I need. I want to bring her back. Maybe if I could click on that I wouldn’t feel so alone and lost.

Amazon doesn’t have a category for moms who died, because there is no product on Earth to purchase that can alleviate what those who are grieving this loss need right now.

Also, if your mom was anything like mine, she does not fit neatly into any of those categories. She would need one all to herself.

It can be so hard to let go of the expectations we had in the past. I still think of sending my mom a card or a gift. I still want to make her smile on Mother’s Day and to thank her for being my mom. I still expect and want that day to be happy.

I should know better by now, but every year my expectations sneak back in. I’m not sure how many years it will take for them to realize that particular phase of life is over. Everything ends, and unfortunately sometimes that includes the people we love the most.

It is so hard to learn to remember and celebrate loving someone while also experiencing the excruciating pain of their loss. Crying into your smile is exhausting emotional work.

It’s important to recognize that not everyone will smile this weekend.

Maybe you never knew your mom.

Maybe your Mom is still alive, but far away, either geographically or because your relationship is broken or strained.

Maybe medications, drugs, or alcohol prevent you from connecting with your mother.

Maybe your mother is alive and fine but not in your life at all because of choices you or she made.

Maybe your mom lives nearby, but your lifestyles and beliefs are so different that connecting with her is impossible.

In all of these situations, there is loss and grief to be found. It is human nature to want or need our mother. We want to be mothered. We want to be loved and supported.

It feels horribly unfair to create a holiday that puts a spotlight on this loss and forces us repeatedly to examine it.

This weekend my plan is to mother myself. I will delete without reading the emails about last minute Mother’s Day shopping as quickly as possible.

I will use the side door of the grocery store to avoid the big display at the front.

I will wrap myself in a blanket and sleep, talk to friends, and ask my kids for extra hugs.

I will drink hot chai and eat cinnamon toast.

I will probably also look at pictures of my mother and cry.

When I walk through my neighborhood and look for the lilacs that remind me so much of her, I won’t need the rain to help me make tears.

I will take deep breaths and exhale loudly.

I will sit in silence, watching the memories swirl in my mind.

I will wait for Monday.

I will still miss her on Monday.

What are you doing for Mother’s Day? How are you handling this, my grieving friend? Please let me know in the comments below.