For the Moms Who Live On in Our Hearts on Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day has carried a different weight for me ever since April 18th, 2005, when my mom, Melinda, lost her fight against oral cancer. My mom was smart, kind, and a social butterfly, someone who never met a stranger. Her absence has shaped so much of my life, but so has her presence, in ways that continue to surround me even now.
After my mom passed, my family moved from Texas to New Jersey to be closer to my dad’s side. I’ve always been incredibly close with my dad and my older brother Christian.
The three of us became a team: grieving, adapting, and figuring life out together.
My dad stepped up in every way imaginable. He played both roles, even when it wasn’t easy or glamorous. He chaperoned Girl Scout field trips and, reluctantly, bought me cheesy teen magazines so I could tape boy band posters all over my walls. When prom rolled around, he helped me narrow down my dress options. Christian was always close by too, looking out for me in that steady older brother way, even while navigating his own grief. When it came time for my first date, he was the one to help me pick out my outfit.
Along the way, I was surrounded by strong, supportive women, including but not limited to my grandmothers, aunts, older cousins, and later, my stepmom.
Each of them showed up for me in ways big and small, helping fill the space my mom couldn’t physically be in.
Still, there were moments, like Mother’s Day at school, when I felt different. I’d make crafts for my aunt or grandma, but deep down, I felt the absence and sometimes even embarrassment. Not having a mom made me feel set apart in a way I didn’t yet have the words for.
That changed when I went to Comfort Zone Camp. I was six when my dad signed Christian and me up, and our first weekend at camp was a turning point. For the first time, I was surrounded by kids who understood my experience. I felt seen, safe, and connected.
One of the memories that sticks with me most from my time as a camper was sharing in Healing Circle. Every time I spoke about my mom, I felt more supported and empowered to express what I was really feeling. Listening to other kids helped me realize that many of the emotions I thought were unique or even strange were actually shared by others. Healing Circle paved the way for me to open up to friends and peers about my grief, not just as a child, but into adulthood too.
My experience at CZC taught me something I carry with me daily: many people are fighting invisible battles. You never know what someone else is carrying. In my mom’s words, “Be kind to all the people you meet.”
Now, at 25, I see Mother’s Day as a time not only to honor my mom, but to recognize the people and places that helped carry her love forward in my life.
Even though I was so young when she passed, I know her. I have my own memories, family photos and videos, and stories shared by people who loved her deeply. Through them, I continue to learn about the woman she was and the love she left behind.
This past March, one month before the 20th anniversary of her passing, I returned to Comfort Zone Camp as a Big Buddy. Walking back onto the grounds at Camp Mason was like stepping into a time capsule. The tetherball setups were still there, and the same call and response songs echoed through the trees. It felt like no time had passed, and all those feelings of connection came rushing back.
I wanted to return to CZC to give back, to be the kind of support my Big Buddies were for me. But what I didn’t expect was how deeply I needed to be back in the bubble.
It reminded me that grief doesn’t expire, and neither does healing.
My mom still finds ways to show up. Most recently, on the morning of my 25th birthday, a monarch butterfly landed gently on my windshield as I was on my way to work. Signs like that feel like a nudge from her, a reminder that she’s still with me.
She’s there when people ask about her, especially friends who never got the chance to meet her. She exists in the stories I tell and the person I continue becoming. I know that she is looking down and smiling, happy that I found Comfort Zone Camp both as a camper and now as a volunteer.
This Mother’s Day, as I reflect on the mix of emotions that come with missing her, I’m filled with gratitude for a mom who continues to guide me from beyond through her memory, her words, and the way she still shows up in my life.
By: Lindsay Naugle
