The Second Mother's Day
Last year, I was still shell-shocked. Mother’s Day was less than three months after my mother’s passing. I was lucky enough to spend her final days with her alongside my father, my wife, my brother and his wife, my nieces and nephew. My aunt was at the house every day, and so was my sister-in-law and her parents. My mother was beloved and she was surrounded by love as she transitioned from this world to the next. That is supposed to be a comfort and it is, in as much as there is comfort to be found in a loss so shattering.
My mom thought Mother’s Day was overly commercialized and a racket. She hated how businesses charged triple for flowers and brunch was a noisy, crowded affair and television commercials in late April and May insisted on trying to sell the idea that we live in a world where mothers are truly valued. She preferred that we appreciated her consistently, not merely on the second Sunday in May, and we did, especially as we got older and better understood what appreciation should look like.
Before my mom died, I didn’t realize how many businesses sent Mother’s Day e-mails but now I do. It’s all kind of ludicrous. I’ve gotten Mother’s Day e-mails from Wally’s where we buy wine in L.A. (great great store), Pasquale Jones, a pizza restaurant I’ve never been to, the Cameo app, Vespertine, ArtSpace, Barnes and Noble, Symphony Space, Joan’s On Third, Mandarin Oriental, The Paris Review, Frette, Jelly Belly, and on and on the list goes. Some of these e-mails are really reaching. I don’t begrudge these businesses the need to make money but it all feels so forced and sad that the best ways we, as a culture, can think of to appreciate mothers is through buying them a gift on the one solitary day each year dedicated to their efforts.
Surely, I think, as I scan these e-mails, we can do better for mothers. Surely, we have more imagination than these targeted entreaties to spend money on things the intended mothers probably don’t really want. The best gift would probably be giving the mother in your life some quiet time, alone, or to assume your fair share of domestic responsibilities without weaponizing incompetence and if she’s a fan of it, you can never go wrong with oral (from romantic partners, obviously).
