A letter to daughters with absent mothers on Mothers Day.

I saw an article online that was addressed to Motherless

daughters on Mothers Day. I read it because I was hoping to be
able to relate to the words someone had written about having an
absent mother or something. I was wrong and disappointed. The
article, however well written it was, failed to fill my need for
comforting words, as it seemed to only be addressing people
whose mothers had passed away. There is absolutely no love
in this world like the love of a mother. The author is right in
a sense but, what I have come to realize is that there is no love in
the world like the love anyone shows you. Everyone loves each
person they love in a different way. So, I find this statement kind
of useless. Of course your mother loves you like no one else does.
She created you, labored you, and dedicated 18 or more years to
making sure you stayed alive and healthy and happy. I feel like
one could compare this to how a farmer feels, spending every
moment possible making sure his farm stays alive, suffering
directly when the farm has hard times. Please dont take this the
wrong way, I dont intend to belittle the amazing love that comes
from, not only a mother, but both parents and family, in general.
But, why did this article leave out people with absent mothers? Is
it because its slightly unheard of? Do people really believe that
there arent a significant amount of kids out there who dont have
a mother around because she CHOOSES not to be? Maybe Im the
only one. Maybe. I dont know why my mother chooses to be
absent from me and my siblings life, maybe thats only because I
havent taken any real time to analyze it. Ive always just
accepted it. Ive never pushed for answers and the truth of the
matter is, I honestly dont even care to form valid questions for
her. If she truly wanted me in her life, she would be there. Ive
never felt angry at her or hated her or tried to make her feel bad.
In fact, as Im writing this, I feel a sense of guilt, as in I hope my
mother never reads this. I would never want her to be sad or
think she failed as a mother, even if that is true.
Let me back up a bit here. Motherless daughters- Im having a
hard time understanding this. The bond between a mother and

daughter is supposed to be incredible, right? I wouldnt really

know, but Im not trying to make a martyr out of myself. They are
referring to daughters who have lost their mothers somehow, as
in, theyre no longer alive. Dont you think that these daughters
still have mothers? I mean, the mother was there until she
couldnt be anymore. The daughters still were able to spend their
lives with their Mom. Mom was at their graduation, their wedding,
their childs birth. She babysat your kids when the sitter bailed at
the last second and you had to be at work. She scolded your
partner when she saw he wasnt treating you right. She paid your
phone bill when you couldnt, just so she could stay in contact
with you. Your mothers phone number was on speed dial. It
probably still is because, these motherless daughters cant
bring themselves to delete the contact in their phone after she
passed. Just because Mom died doesnt mean that you are
motherless. Your mother still lives, you cry and mourn her death
years after, you struggle in her absence on Mothers Day and her
birthday and Christmas. She is still alive because you are.
I AM A MOTHERLESS DAUGHTER.
I grew up in Parkersburg, West Virginia with my mother, two
sisters, and whatever man my mother was dating or married to at
the time. When I was ten, something happened. Its still unclear
what happened because my family is known to embellish stories,
create lies, and cause unnecessary drama. Upon the death of my
Great Aunt when I was 16, some secrets came out but, even still, I
dont know exactly what happened and Ive subconsciously
always accepted that I would never know.
I do know that I have faint memories of my mother from the ten
years we spent together. Sometimes I think about the house we
had on that dead end street where you decorated the kitchen in
antique Coca-Cola memorabilia. Sometimes I remember playing in
the backyard inside the Sunflower House you created, you planted
seeds in the shape of a giant room and skipped a few feet in the
front to create the entrance. I remember staring at you in the
kitchen as you made dinner, staring in awe at how beautiful you

were, with your bright red hair and freckles, hoping one day I
would look just like you. You gave me a great childhood, from
what I can remember. Unfortunately, most of my childhood is a
blur, if even that. I put together some ideas based on stories told
to me by my family, but I always carry those with caution and
skeptic.
There is a void that cannot and will not ever be filled, no
matter what anybody tells you.
I feel no void, because I have completely forgotten what its like
to have a mother. I dont miss her, because I have completely
forgotten what she was like. Sometimes I even forget what she
looks like and I have to dwell in that moment in the kitchen,
staring at her. She turns and looks at me, smiles, Go set the
table, Bamber Dawn she would say and I would abide, skipping
to the table, pigtails bouncing to the background sound of Kenny
Chesney playing in the living room.
Anyways, when I was ten years old, my Mom loaded us up in her
boyfriends royal blue pickup truck and drove us all the way to
Lexington, Kentucky where we met up with our Dad who had
driven from Nashville, Tennessee to meet us. My parents, this
being the first time I had ever seen them stand next to each
other, signed the custody papers on the trunk of my Dads
Camaro in the parking lot of a McDonalds. My Mom hugged me. I
cant remember if she cried or not. I like to tell myself she cried
the whole way back to West Virginia because, I was crying the
whole way to Tennessee.
Since that day, I have seen my mother maybe five fleeting times
and I have shed not a single tear over her since that ride to
Tennessee with my Dad. She never came to visit us or met us half
way. We went to see her a couple times, only for a day or two. I
dont think she liked us visiting because it hurt her a lot to see us
and to have to say goodbye. She hardly ever called. She never
sent gifts or cards on birthdays or Christmas. It was literally like
she had died but I couldnt mourn for her because she wasnt
dead. There was just this big question mark in the space where

my mother was supposed to be. Did she give me away? Does she
want me back? Does she miss me? Maybe.
I went almost 6 years without a visit while I was in College. She
didnt come to my high school graduation. She wasnt there when
my sister had her baby. I was my sisters mother then, holding her
hand, helping her push, wiping the blood from her thighs,
comforting her husband. My mother wont be someone I call if I
get engaged or get my dream job or return from an amazing trip
somewhere in the World. I wont think to call her when my heart
gets broken. I wont feel the urge for her to coddle me when Im
sick.
I AM NOT ANGRY AT MY MOTHER.
I have trouble explaining this. I often think to myself, when
meeting my friends mothers or hearing about them, I wish I had
a mother, I wish I had MY mother. I wish my mother was here to
get a pedicure with me, like I see those women over there doing. I
wish my phone would ring and I would be annoyed that my
mother had called me three times that day. I dont even have a
phone number to reach my mother. Im not angry at her because I
know that she loved me for as long as she could, and ten years is
a lot of time. I know I see pictures of her on Facebook, spending
time with my cousins and their babies. Im glad she is there for
them.
IM GLAD I AM A STRONG ENOUGH PERSON TO NOT NEED MY
MOTHER, BECAUSE ITS NOT A CHOICE FOR ME.
On Mothers Day every year, I pick up shifts at work. I serve tables
of mothers and daughters. I witness a relationship I will never
have. I imagine my mother walking through the front door of my
work to surprise me. I know this will never happen. I know she
wont be at my wedding or my funeral, if I go before she does. I
honestly just think motherhood was too much for her, too painful,
too much risk of failure, too much love.

There are daughters out there who have absent mothers and I
find that this does not result in sadness. It results in strength, a
little confusion matched with incredible understanding,
compassion, and gratitude for the people who have filled her void
so that I dont have to.