Dear sweet, strong mother,
I see you.
I know you’re tired.
Not the kind of tired that goes away with a nap or a good night’s sleep.
It’s a deep kind of tired—the kind that settles into your bones after years of always being the one to call, the one to text, the one to show up.
You wake up hoping that maybe today someone will reach out to you.
But the phone sits quiet.
So you give in and call first.
Again.
Because that’s just who you are.
You’re the one who keeps the family connected.
The one who remembers birthdays.
The one who sends the “just thinking of you” messages.
You’re the glue that holds everything together.
And sometimes, glue gets overlooked.
People forget how important it is.
They assume it’ll always be there, holding tight, never asking for anything.
But I want to say what they don’t always say.
Thank you.
Thank you for caring so deeply.
Thank you for loving even when it’s one-sided.
Thank you for being the heartbeat of your family, even when it feels like no one notices.
I know what it’s like to stare at your phone, scrolling through your contacts, wondering who might want to hear your voice.
I know how you rehearse your words before calling, afraid of interrupting someone’s day.
I know how your heart sinks a little when the call goes to voicemail.
And I know how you try to sound cheerful anyway when they finally call back—days later.
You don’t want to seem needy.
You don’t want to guilt anyone.
You just want to feel wanted.
That’s not too much to ask.
You’ve spent your life giving.
Giving your time.
Giving your heart.
Giving your energy.
You gave when you were young and busy and juggling everything.
You gave when your hands were full and your sleep was short.
You gave when your own heart was hurting, but you kept showing up for everyone else.
And now, in these later years—when things have slowed down—you’re still giving.
You’re still the one who checks in.
Still the one who listens.
Still the one who remembers the stories no one else seems to recall.
Sometimes it probably feels like you’re shouting into a canyon and only your own echo answers back.
You wonder if they’d even notice if you stopped reaching out.
What would happen if you didn’t send the birthday card?
Didn’t make the holiday plans?
Didn’t check in just to say, “Are you doing okay?”
Would the silence stretch on forever?
That question can feel like a weight in your chest.
Because part of you is afraid to find out.
Afraid to pull back.
Afraid to stop being the one who reaches out.
Because what if no one comes looking?
What if the silence stays?
But here’s something I want you to know.
Your efforts are not wasted.
Your love matters.
Even if it’s not returned the way you hope.
Even if they take too long to respond.
Even if they don’t say thank you.
Your love is still powerful.
It plants seeds.
Seeds you may never see grow.
But they’re there, buried deep in the hearts of those you love.
Even if they don’t show it right now.
They remember who called after the surgery.
Who checked in during the hard times.
Who never forgot a holiday, even when the world felt upside down.
They remember.
Maybe not always in words.
Maybe not even in actions.
But deep down, your presence left a mark.
You’ve shaped their lives in ways they don’t even fully understand yet.
But I know it doesn’t always help in the moment.
When you’re the only one texting first.
When your birthday comes and goes with silence from the people who should remember.
When you sit at the table with too many empty chairs and too few thank-you’s.
It hurts.
And you’re allowed to feel that hurt.
It doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you human.
It makes you real.
You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t sting.
You don’t have to keep smiling when your heart is sore from always giving and never getting.
But don’t let their silence convince you that you don’t matter.
Don’t let their distance tell you a story that’s not true.
You are loved.
You are valued.
Even if they’re bad at showing it.
Even if they forget to say it.
Even if they take and take and forget to give.
You’re still a treasure.
You’re still the one they’ll think of when life gets hard.
Still the one they’ll wish they had called more often.
Still the one whose voice will echo in their hearts long after you’re gone.
And here’s something else I hope you hear:
It’s okay to step back sometimes.
It’s okay to stop chasing people who don’t chase back.
It’s okay to rest.
You don’t have to carry all the weight of connection.
You don’t have to hold up every relationship all by yourself.
If they care, they’ll reach back.
And if they don’t—then maybe they were leaning too hard on your love without ever returning it.
That’s not your fault.
You didn’t do anything wrong.
You just loved hard.
You just showed up.
You just tried.
That’s something to be proud of.
Maybe now it’s time to pour some of that love into yourself.
Take yourself out for a coffee.
Treat yourself to something cozy.
Write yourself the kind of letter you’ve written to others for years.
Tell you that you’re proud.
That you’re enough.
That you’re doing great.
Because you are.
And if no one else is saying it—let me say it again, loud and clear.
You are not forgotten.
You are not invisible.
You are not too much.
You are not a burden.
You are not annoying when you call.
You are not selfish for wanting to feel wanted.
You are not wrong to wish someone would reach out to you for once.
You are a light.
You are a lifeline.
You are love in human form.
I don’t know your exact story.
Maybe your kids got busy.
Maybe your friends drifted.
Maybe you feel like the world moved on without you.
But the truth is, your heart is still one of the most beautiful things this world needs.
And there are people out there—yes, even now—who need the kind of love only you give.
Don’t let the silence convince you otherwise.
Don’t let the unanswered messages define your worth.
You’re not here to beg for attention.
You’re here to shine.
To love.
To be the kind of person who makes others feel seen.
But that doesn’t mean you should forget about you.
You matter too.
Your heart needs care.
Your soul needs warmth.
And if others forget to offer it, offer it to yourself.
Speak kindly to yourself.
Remind yourself of all the things you’ve done—big and small—that held people together.
Think of all the times you showed up when no one else did.
All the prayers you whispered for others.
All the love you gave without being asked.
That is a legacy.
That is something to honor.
It’s okay to slow down now.
It’s okay to let go of the ones who never look back.
Not out of bitterness.
But out of peace.
Out of love—for yourself.
Because you deserve to feel peace too.
You deserve to be pursued.
To be called.
To be remembered.
You shouldn’t have to beg for it.
And one day, maybe they’ll finally realize it.
Maybe one day the phone will ring—and it’ll be them.
Not because you called first.
Not because you reminded them.
But because they missed you.
Because they see you.
But even if that day never comes, your value doesn’t change.
You’re not only worth loving when others notice.
You’re worth loving all the time.
You are still full of light.
Still full of stories.
Still full of love.
You’re not running out.
You’re overflowing.
And you can pour that love into places where it’s appreciated.
Where it’s met with kindness.
Where it doesn’t fall into silence.
Because love is not meant to be a one-way street forever.
It’s okay to hope.
It’s okay to still wish for connection.
But don’t let the waiting steal your joy.
There are people in this world who would be lucky to hear your voice.
To sit with you.
To laugh with you.
To hear your stories.
Find them.
Or let them find you.
In unexpected places.
In kind neighbors.
In a new friend at church.
In someone who smiles at the grocery store and starts a conversation.
Sometimes love shows up where we least expect it.
But it can’t find you if you’re too busy chasing those who don’t see you.
You are allowed to stop reaching for the ones who never reach back.
You are allowed to protect your heart.
You are allowed to wait to be pursued.
Because you’re not just someone’s mother.
You’re a whole person.
You’re someone who deserves to be loved fully.
Not just when it’s convenient.
Not just when they need something.
But because you’re you.
So if no one’s told you today, let this be that moment:
You are seen.
You are appreciated.
You are deeply, deeply loved.
And you always will be.