Mother’s Day is on the horizon again.
For some, it’s brunch reservations and peonies in vases, soft morning light and voices that still call to say, “I love you, Mom.”
For others, it’s quieter. It’s complicated. And for more people than you might think, it’s a day that passes like any other—no cards, no calls, no memories worth framing.
This letter is for them. For the motherless.
For the ones who searched for her in other places.
In the Sunday school teacher who stayed after class. In the cafeteria worker who knew you didn’t have lunch money and looked the other way.
In the coach who taught you how to throw a ball and how to hold your head high. In the neighbor who fed you when your house was cold and empty.
In the librarian who said, “You can stay as long as you need.”
In the stranger who said, “You’re doing okay.”
Some of us learned how to be loved by watching TV moms.
Mrs. Cunningham from Happy Days made pot roast and never raised her voice.
Florida Evans held her family together with grit and faith.
Edna Garrett left Park Avenue to teach girls how to live (Facts of Life, baby).
Even Sophia Petrillo—with her sharp tongue and Sicilian wisdom—somehow taught us to laugh through loss.
And off-screen, we picked up lessons from real-world stand-ins.
From the mom of your best friend, who always said, “You’re welcome here,” and actually meant it.
From the girlfriend’s mom who didn’t judge when you were broken.
From mother-in-laws who gave you more warmth than your own blood ever did.
From church ladies who remembered your birthday.
From nurses who held your hand a little longer than they had to.
From cashiers who called you “sweetheart” and looked you in the eye like they meant it.
From grandmas who weren’t yours, but claimed you anyway.
They didn’t raise us, not entirely.
But they mothered us— piece by piece, moment by moment.
And maybe that’s what real motherhood is anyway.
Not who birthed you—but who chose to care when they didn’t have to.
People say, “Blood is thicker than water,” like it’s the gospel truth.
But they forget the full quote: “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”
It means the bonds we choose—through love, loyalty, and lived experience—can run deeper than the ones we’re born with.
It means sometimes, your real family is built in the trenches, not in the delivery room.
And maybe the best moms are the ones who volunteered for the job without ever being asked.
So this Mother’s Day, here’s to them.
To the lunch ladies and sitcom legends.
To the girlfriends’ moms and the Sunday school saints.
To the foster moms, the stepmoms, the best friends’ moms, the neighbor ladies, and the nurses.
To the women who mothered in small, quiet, unrecognized ways—who patched holes in us they never caused.
This is for you. Your names may not be printed on any birth certificate, But you signed your love on our hearts.
