5 years of the Motherlove Project
In June 2020, I was staring down the 25th anniversary of my Mom’s death, in the midst of a global pandemic. I was feeling the weight of my grief so heavily that year, I couldn’t believe she had been gone for 25 years already. And then I had an idea. What if I created a website and an Instagram account to connect with other motherless daughters. It was the first time I had ever spoken about my grief publicly, and what’s followed, is more than I could have honestly dreamed.
Starting this Project has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. Connecting with all of you, each day, and trusting me to share your beautiful stories, your memories, your love, with the world, is such an honour. In the last five years, over 110 woman have shared their stories with the Project, and thousands more have read them every year. Each year, more people find the Project and are reading the beautiful words of women they’ve never met but that they know. We are connected through our shared pain, the agony of losing the one person who we want to be with us. No one is prepared to live a life without their mother, regardless of how old they are. The grief women feel in their mother’s absence is hard to describe, it’s a gnawing feeling of lack, or loss, that stays with you, even years after she has died (or been absent).
In the last five years, I’ve spoken and written about my grief in ways that even surprise me. I feel like the raw edges have softened somewhat, not because of time, but because I’ve shared more and connected with those pieces more. Here are the things that being on my grief awakening has taught me over the last five years:
Grief is universal and so personal. Everyone’s journey is different and yet we are connected in our shared longing for that person we miss so deeply. The sense of identity loss is profound, the things we’ll never get to share with that person, the things we wish we had said, known, asked, talked about.
Grief needs community. The most powerful lesson I learned in going to Costa Rica with TwoCan Retreats was that I needed community to witness and honour my grief. I needed to share the pain I had been carrying in my heart all those years with strangers who quickly became dear friends. Witness and holding the grief of others is a sacred act, one that is both healing and draining. I was so honoured to be there with these amazing people and to share my grief with them was incredibly transformative. As privileged as I am to have gone, I know that grief needs community for all of us.
Grief needs rituals. I used to pretend that I didn’t need to see my Mom’s photos, or talk to her, or connect with my grief. I have learned over the last five years that this is our society’s way of telling us to disconnect from ourselves, to shun the parts of us that help us to feel. Connecting to my Mom on her birthday or death anniversary is a way I honour her but it’s also the way I honour myself, the things I have been through, the pain that I carry with me and the lessons I’ve learned along the way. I take care of my grief, I have learned to tend to it. By lighting a candle and keeping my grief alter close by, I’m able to connect with her any time I need to.
Grief needs expression. This Project has given me such an incredible outlet to share my reflections and connect with people in a way I never thought was possible. I want to be able to share more of myself through this blog and through the stories we tell. This is how healing starts, by opening up and being vulnerable. I hope that in doing so, I’m helping to shine a light on the stories that beautiful, grieving women around the world have so bravely shared. Through your stories and pictures, we come to know you and your beautiful mothers. Your stories are a living memorial, a testament to the lives lived, and the legacy of love that follows in the wake of enormous loss.
Thank you all of the opportunity to keep doing this work. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have as much time to dedicate to the site as I would like but I’m giving myself grace to know that I’m doing my best. I would be grateful if you would share the Project with someone who might find comfort in it, or learn something from reading the stories. We can build a more compassionate world but sharing stories of grief and loss, especially with those who are supporting grievers. By giving them a window into our hearts, we all become more aware of how
