Mother’s Day is celebrated globally to thank mothers for their selfless love for children, and for people who never get to experience the love, it is bittersweet. While they see people gift their mothers flowers and gifts, the emptiness inside is heartbreaking. For Becky she is glad that she experienced the love of a mother; however, since her mother was diagnosed with dementia, things adversely changed in her life. It feels like ever since the diagnosis, she has been carrying a weight that is constantly making her fall in life, one that never seems to get easier. However, this time Becky and her sister, Mary, wanted to make the most out of the day, knowing little things can bring to her mother.
Their only concern was the discomfort that the change of routine could bring to her mother. However, it had been long enough since they felt pure joy and had a heart free of all worries. To celebrate the day fully, the sisters brought a few new outfits, a cheerful tablecloth, a bright pot of flowers for the porch, and a card they were sure would make her laugh. Daughters are truly blessings from God!
When they arrived at their parents’ home, their mother rested beside their father while the caretaker stayed nearby. Her eyes brightened as she noticed the flowers, and she reached out to touch the soft fabric of the new clothing. She admired the colors of the tablecloth with a quiet smile. Then she opened the card. Both daughters waited eagerly, ready to hear the laugh they loved, the laugh they thought the silly card would bring. Instead, their mother held the card close, studying it carefully. After a long pause, she whispered, “It’s beautiful.” She handed it to their father, who chuckled at the joke, and then asked for it back. Holding it again, she said softly, “It’s beautiful.”
It was not the reaction they had expected, but in that moment, it was enough. Her words, though few, were tender and honest. They were her way of receiving the gift, and they were her truth. After the visit, the daughter returned to her bakery. The little shop had become her sanctuary, where she could work and heal. She turned on the music and let it fill the kitchen, and soon her hands were busy with dough and icing. As she worked, her mind slipped into memories of her mother. She saw herself as a child, perched on the kitchen counter, waiting eagerly to lick the beaters while her mother baked. She remembered her mother’s patience, the gentle way she guided her, and the love that seemed to pour into every recipe.
Her mother had not just taught her how to bake. She had given her resilience, creativity, and courage. She had shown her that baking was about food, care, connection, and joy. Those lessons shaped her life in ways her mother might never have known. Last year, she opened her bakery, a dream that felt alive with her mother’s spirit. Each time she sprinkled sugar or smoothed frosting on a cake, she felt her mother’s presence beside her. Baking was no longer just a craft;it was the heartbeat of their bond. The kitchen became a place where memory and love blended.
Still, when she thought about the gifts they had given—the clothes, the flowers, the tablecloth—she could not help but feel they were small compared to what her mother had given her. She wanted to give back more than objects. She tried to return the laughter, the warmth of hugs, the sound of her name in her mother’s familiar voice. Those moments were treasures. They had shaped her, comforted her, and carried her into adulthood. And now, she wished she could place them back into her mother’s hands when she needed them most.
So, on Mother’s Day, she decided she would not celebrate with things but with memories. In her heart, her mother would laugh at the card, call her by name, and walk toward her with open arms. In that quiet place of memory, her mother would be whole again. To honor her, the daughter did what her mother had taught her long ago: She made some icing, licked the beaters, and let joy rise again in her hands.
