In the duration of my monthly Target trips, I often find myself in a long stride through the card aisle. I admire the beautiful messages and cute puns; I marvel at their intentions. Picking up a hot pink papyrus card with the saying “You’re a chocolate chip pancake… in a world full of plain toast.” My heart sinks to my stomach. I stand in the empty aisle and snap out of my daydream. After all, I cannot physically give my mom any of these. I cannot bring her fresh sunflowers or make her a homemade breakfast in bed, or just be in her presence. Mother’s Day should be a day of remembrance and appreciation for me, which it is, but it also just emphasizes the fact that my mother is no longer in my life.

My mother passed away almost three years ago from Synovial Sarcoma, a rare form of Cancer. It sounds so unreal and statistical to even say that out loud. Every Mother’s Day since her passing has shed a different meaning upon my grief. The first year I pushed any kind of feeling away. I worked an eight-hour shift and came home so tired that I didn’t really have the capacity to fully absorb the effects of her absence. The second year hit me a lot harder. I found myself looking for her in everything. I wanted something that would just make me feel normal again. I tried to fill the void, so I made her favorite dish, Alaskan king crab legs and linguini with my aunt. Yet, it still did not feel the same as us sitting by our living room table cracking crabs and watching "The Real Housewives of Atlanta."

This Mother’s Day has an entirely new feeling. It’s titled "Loneliness." Sunday, May 13th reads my lock screen. I wake up to a flood of appreciation posts on Instagram. Hundreds of people my age posting selfies at mother’s day brunches. All of my friends are spending the day doing something cute with their moms. I sit on my couch thinking about how there are so many new memories to be made that are put on pause, so many movies to see, restaurants to try, love to be shared between us.

My mother was the best person I knew. She gave so much to the world and yet it only reciprocated back a small portion of what she truly deserved. On Mother’s Day, I choose to remember her as my heroine, rather than be saddened by her absence. I remember her sense of adventure, the curls that surrounded a perfectly round face, and the sun spots that shouted pure honesty. I remember the glares of admiration she’d radiate to me and how loved she made me feel. She was so curious; a woman who constantly wanted to learn about life while simultaneously shooting down anyone who disregarded her strong intuition. She drew people in, making conversation with everyone she met.

On Mother’s Day I play back a movie reel in my mind of all our days spent together. Pictures bring me to the day I was born, her eyes glued to mine. I feel her hand slowly come off of my back as she gives me the last push on my bike. I hear her voice yelling at me to stop being a yenta and to get out of the kitchen. I squeeze her hand three times to say "I love you" as the nurse puts in her IV. We laugh at the woman fast asleep in the office. We put up Christmas decorations. Take Tito to the groomers. Have sleepovers in the living room. Narrate peoples lives in dark restaurants.

I envision life with her still in it.

I remember you, and thank you.

For those of you who are spending Mother’s Day by your lonesome, just remember that you are never truly alone. Your mother may not be physically present, but the memories and what she meant to you will never fade. Keeping her spirit alive is what will live throughout you. Celebrate this day in whichever way makes you feel most at ease. If you need to cry, don’t suppress your emotions. If you want to bake your mother’s favorite recipe, do that! Just do whatever feels the least forced, and what makes you the happiest.

Also, for those who are around someone who does not have their mother on this day, just show your love and support through this time. Reminisce with them. Make them feel valid.

Last but certainly not least, remember that the love your mother had for you still exists. It’s universal. A mother's love never dies.