Mother’s Day 2023
Mother’s Day is this weekend, and I’m planning on spending much of it with my 94-year-old mother, Edith, at her assisted living home. She is on hospice care now, extremely weak and often very confused. During one visit last week, when her mind was relatively clear, we spoke about how she has come full circle and is like a baby again in many ways. Her caregivers pick out her clothes and dress her, brush her teeth and hair, bathe and clean her, and feed her when she’s hungry.
Myra’s parents, Edith and Mendek, newly married, 1961
My mother’s moods are extreme and changeable. When she’s miserable and weepy, despairing about her deteriorating body and complete lack of independence, I feel a powerful maternal longing to soothe her suffering, but there is rarely anything I can do except listen to her complaints. Feeling excruciatingly sad, my heart yearns for this world to be different, kinder, easier. Witnessing the loss, pain and indignities of growing so old, I dread being next in line.
But the times when my mother is serene, our visits are incredibly sweet. I know it will be a good day when I walk into her room and see her face light up with joy and surprise. “Myraleh, it’s you!” she exclaims. “I can’t believe you’re really here!” She makes me feel like a returning hero, not someone who just visited the day before. I hold her hand and we smile into each other’s eyes, trading words of appreciation and adoration. “I love you so much, Mommy!” I say. “I love you so much Myraleh, you can’t even imagine.”
Edith and Myra, 1964
At her essence, my mother is one of the most magnificent people I have ever known, but her life has been shaped by extreme, unresolved trauma. Despite how tender I feel toward her, I’ve simultaneously been experiencing a persistent drive to unearth and transform my emotional inheritance, as if my mother’s pending release from this life has the power to accelerate my own liberation.
Edith on her 68th birthday with grandchildren Marea and Jeff
While navigating this challenging terrain, writing has proven to be extremely helpful. Attempting to put my feelings into words forces me give them my full attention. I’m staying with my discomfort longer, probing more deeply. Once on the page, my emotions feel more fluid, less dense, more universal.
Edith last December, with Myra, her husband Drew, son Jeff and daughter-in-law Kyra
Luckily, I’ve had a great resource in the form of thirty potent writing prompts created by my brilliant writing mentor, Laura Davis, for a Spirituality & Health magazine article we collaborated on, “Journaling Prompts to Unravel the Mother Knot.” Laura is the bestselling author of The Courage to Heal, whose most recent book, The Burning Light of Two Stars, is a memoir about her touching and tumultuous relationship with her mother, so she’s gone deep into this topic. You can explore all thirty prompts in the article, which includes directions for a free-writing practice that helps us access our deepest truths. Today, I’m sharing the ten prompts that I’ve been working with most recently.
If you aren’t familiar with writing prompts, they are used to make facing a blank page less daunting by giving us a place to start. “Prompts should be provocative and stretch you to enter new territory,” Laura explains. “They can also help you remember things you forgot long ago.” Encouraging people to be spontaneous and go wherever these prompts lead, she advises, “Hold the reins loosely. The prompts are meant to open you up, so go with the flow and meander. Trust your gut and let your pen lead.”
Even if you are not in a time of dramatic transition with your mother, it can be enlightening and healing to deeply and honestly reflect upon this most primary relationship. As Laura says, “Writing can help us remember our joys, process our pain, and foster compassion for both our mothers and ourselves.” And if you don’t feel drawn to writing, these prompts also make great questions to ponder or discuss with friends and family:
What my mother taught me
What my mother failed to teach me
Tell me about an object you strongly associate with your mother
My mother’s hands
Things my mother still doesn’t know about me
Tell me about something your mother loves. Now tell me about something she hates.
Tell me about your family from the point of view of the kitchen table
What I couldn’t understand as a child
What I understand about my mother today
I am no longer waiting for
With boundless gratitude to my mother, and all mothers everywhere, Happy Mother’s Day. 💐
Take a Moment Micro-Meditation
Tiny pauses to be right here, right now can have big results. Our Take a Moment series of micro-meditations—all under two minutes long—make taking mindful pauses as easy as possible. We invite you to "Take a Moment" to find the calm that is always within you.
