A Mother’s Day Letter, Brought to You (Sort Of) by My Mother
Turns out, Mom said it better
Dear Mom,
How’s this for a Mother’s Day letter? One mostly written by you.
Of the hundreds of letters I’ve saved, dozens are from you. I could wax poetic about how they made me feel—like a hug when I was homesick at camp, in college, or living on my own. But instead (as you’ve probably guessed by now), I’m not going to write about my feelings. I’m going to share your words—because they say everything.
You became a mother not long after losing yours—someone whose pain you carried long after she was gone. You were just 18 when you stepped in to help raise your younger brothers. You could have passed on that pain. Instead, you passed on love—to us, to me—evident in your letters.
A handful of letters from my mom to me.
So, in your own words, here are a few clips—spanning nearly four decades:
October 20, 1988
Dearest Felice,
I miss you. Simple, plain, unadorned truth… something is missing. There is a diminished energy level in our home. No basketball games to attend, no softball scrimmages… Dad is planning to bring the computer to Amherst. I think he wants an excuse to visit. Have fun, study hard and play hard.
Love, Mom
P.S. Little gifts enclosed. We’re saving the others for when you come home.
April 22, 1991
Dearest Felice,
Don’t let your dreams get the better of you. You are working something out. Write them down the minute you remember it, no matter how bizarre or incoherent it might seem, then call me collect—we’ll solve them together.
Love, Mom
October 29, 1991
Dearest Felice,
Dad and I want you to know how much we love you and want only happiness for you. Material success is one of the easiest goals to attain. The others, like friendship, might be harder. Perhaps in your need to get things done you’ve shortchanged this area or maybe it is hard to find a friend as special as you. In any event, I think you are terrific.
Love, Mom
P.S. Everyone loved the necktie you painted!
May 18, 1992
Dearest Felice,
You’ve filled these past four years with multidimensional experiences, challenges, and friendships. You have given her your all to UMass and she, in turn, has given you the tools to move ahead. Congratulations my number one daughter. I’m so proud of you and wish you a bright and happy future.
All my love, Mom
June 9, 1994
Dearest Felice,
Funny thing about motherhood, you can’t say, “I’ve been doing this for 20 years, boring, think I’ll quit.” Because dealing with people you love 365 days a year isn’t a bad way to spend your life. Speaking about people I love, be happy—it is your given name.
Love, Mom
March 8, 1999
Dear Piglet,
You once sent me an encouraging letter when I was about to start a new career—now I return the favor. Good luck at the New York Daily News and in your life, one of Papa’s special lessons.
Love, Pooh
July 14, 2000
Dearest Felice,
Remember your 10th birthday campout? What should we do for your 30th? Another pie in the face? Another Michael Jackson cake? As dad said, “you don’t have a mean bone in your body. And what a bod!” (I added the last part). Happy birthday!
Love, Mom
October 4, 2022
Dearest Felice,
Tonight you are a “star!” Wishing you a great year with tons of book sales and happy heart events.
Love you, Mom
Mom, thank you for every note, hug, and always believing in me. I love you.
Happy (early) Mother’s Day!
Felice
P.S. Write a letter to your mother or mother figure, whether she’s alive or not, and thank her.
SONG OF THE WEEK
Just When I Needed You Most, by Randy VanWarme
Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.
Yes they do!
I cried through this one, Felice. What a beautifully loving, caring, supportive and intuitive person your mom was. Her gift to you! Two things that especially stood out to me were in the April 22, 1991, letter, when your mom suggested you write down your thoughts immediately and “we’ll solve them together.” The other was in her March 8, 1999, letter to you when she referred to you as Piglet and herself Pooh. I adore the playfulness of that.
Your mom‘s letters to you sound so much like my own letters to my daughter and son, some of which are serious and some that are playful and filled with nicknames and private jokes we share. My mom never wrote me a letter, note or gave me a card. It wasn’t her way. She didn’t like sentimentality, and it wasn’t in her nature to ever share her feelings. She never told me or my siblings she loved us. When others gave her a card along with a gift for Mother’s Day or her birthday, which almost always fell on the same day, she wondered out loud why someone would waste their money on cards. When she received flowers, she proclaimed what a waste of money they were because “once you look at them all you do is sit and watch them die.” It’s not my intention to make my mom sound horrible. She called herself practical. I’m not sure that’s the word I would use, but it taught me a valuable lesson and one your mom instinctively and lovingly passed on to you:
It’s important to express to people, especially our children, how much we love them, support them, are always there for them and to let them know motherhood isn’t a part-time gig with an end date. My kids cherish the letters I’ve written to them, not because they say anything profound, but because I’m always reminding them how much I love them and how in tune I am to them no matter what they’re going through. Maybe that’s what is profound as they read them. Most of my letters are for no specific reason or to commemorate any specific event. They’re simply a way for them to always remember they have been my life and my joy.
Your mother’s words instilled in you the importance of writing letters and sharing your heart. Oddly, my mother’s lack of words taught me the same lesson.
Thank you so much for sharing such an intimate part of your life and for encouraging us to write our own letter to our mother or mother figure. Bless you. As always, I’m SO grateful you’re here 💛.