Holding On to What’s No Longer Mine

Mother’s Day Grief and Longing

Mother’s Day has always been complex for me.

And this year is no different… except that the grief feels… heavier.
Familiar, but in a new way.

This is the first official year I don’t have someone to call Mom.

My mother died three years ago, but until now, I still had her mother (my grandma.)
And my partner’s mom.

Last year grandma died.

This year, I lost him… and as a result, she is gone too.

I know my ex-partner’s mom isn’t mine anymore, and yet.. I sent her a text, because, well… she didn’t have anything to do with this mess.
Because I still love her, she’s still on my mind… and grief doesn’t ask for clean boundaries.

It wasn’t until later in the day, after trading texts with some of my favorite women and moms, that the tears came and the loneliness hit me like a wave I thought I’d already survived.

A friend told me he surprised his mom for Mother’s Day.
(I have him blocked, but still—stories find their way.)

He got to see her.

And I just get to sit here…
with my memories of what was,
my imagination of what could have been,
and the painful truth of what will never be.

She wasn’t just my boyfriend’s mom.
She was a soft place to land and someone to share news & joy with after losing my own.
She was the last thread—not because of her, but because of what she represented.

A mother figure.
A connection to the past.
A tiny hope that some part of what I had could still feel like home.

So now I sit with a different kind of loss:
Not just the relationship that ended,
but the web of love and connection around it.
The quiet unraveling of attachments that once felt like family.
The friendships from both of us that will each watch our separate journeys and maybe choose sides.

And as the web slowly distintegrates

I will let myself grieve it.
I will honor it.

And I will lovingly let it go.