My mom died when I was a teenager. I dreaded Mother’s Day every year after that.
I’d’ve liked to ignore the entire day. Or better still, the entire week.
Instead, there were celebrations for the other moms in my life. By the time I left home, I had to remember cards and gifts for my ex-stepmother, my current stepmother, my former stepfather’s current wife, etc. (My family is so complicated that my Big Brother finally made a PowerPoint presentation for those foolish enough to marry into it. My husband is still bitter Big Brother didn’t make it until after we got married.)