Honoring My Mother: A Mother’s Day Tribute

Mother’s Day is more than a date on the calendar—it’s a moment to pause and recognize the boundless love, quiet strength, and enduring presence that mothers bring into our lives. At home, she was everything: the Queen of her castle, the chef behind our first five-star meal, our first teacher, our stylist, nurse, accountant, advisor, judge, jury, role model, and above all, our unwavering supporter. A one-woman show—and we were her adoring audience.

As children, we imitate our mothers’ every move, every word. To us, they are invincible. We dream of becoming like them, shaped by their love and sustained by their belief in us—even when we can't find that belief in ourselves. A mother’s love builds the very foundation of who we become. Her strength is the light that guides us through life’s darkest and brightest moments.

This is only a glimpse of who my mother was to me. She was my breath, my home, and my world. And for nearly thirty years, I’ve had to learn how to live without that breath. I had the honor of growing within her, of witnessing her strength and grace—if only for a short while.

Like me, she was loved by her Heavenly Father, who called her home while I was still a child. Her absence has echoed through every heartbeat, every holiday, every milestone. Yet her spirit has never left me. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the wind, in the stillness of dawn, gently reminding me of who she was—and who I strive to be.

I wrestled for years with the pain of losing her. I questioned God. I wondered why the greatest gift of my life was taken so soon. My heart broke in a thousand silent ways, especially on Mother’s Day. I smiled for others, honored the women around me, but buried my sorrow in solitude. I created what I called “blackout holidays”—preset messages sent out, phone muted, and myself hidden away until the storm passed.

Time began to blur her face, her voice, her scent. But two things never faded. They weren’t words she spoke—they were the life she lived. My mother showed me Jesus through her actions. Quietly, faithfully, she gave and served from the depths of her heart. She asked for nothing in return, deflected praise, and lived with integrity both publicly and privately. Her example shaped my faith and became the blueprint for how I strive to give and live today.

This Mother’s Day, I reflect with both sorrow and gratitude. I miss her every single day, but I carry her in how I love, serve, and believe. Her legacy is not lost—it’s alive in every act of kindness I extend to others.

To those whose mothers are still here, take the time to cherish them. Celebrate their love and strength. Tell them how deeply they matter. And to those like me, whose mothers now watch from above—honor their memory. Let their teachings guide you and know their love lives on eternally.

Today, for the first time in almost 30 years, I say it aloud and with all my heart: Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day, Patricia A. Stewart. I will miss you for as long as I live—and love you forever.

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