I used to think it was a strange concept to celebrate someone’s life when they were no longer with us. I remember going to my first wake of a friend who sadly lost his life at a young age. After the funeral everyone went to the pub. This was foreign to me. In the Jewish religion, we enter a period of mourning after a funeral. And when my mother died of Alzheimer’s in 2019, aged 54, my family and I entered the seven-day mourning period known as Shiva. However, recently, I’ve learned the importance of celebrating Mom even though she’s not with us any more. It’s something I hold dear this Mother’s Day.

Terry, my mother, was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s in 2011 and our world changed in unimaginable ways. For almost 10 years, I witnessed the rapid decline of my mother and at times it was unbearable to see. Watching the person who has always been the most competent, kind and caring mom constantly lose pieces of her personality and capabilities was painful, but mostly filled with sadness.

Yet among all the heartache, frustration, confusion and challenges, my family and I never stopped celebrating Mom. Every year from the time Mom was diagnosed until she passed away – and now four-and-a-half years on – we celebrate her: her life, her birthday, Mom and Dad’s anniversary and Mother’s Day. We also ensure that at every major celebration or Jewish festival – where she would have been the centre of everything – we remember Mom and think about how much joy she would have had and given to all of us if she were still with us.

I never had any preconceived ideas about whether, or how, we would continue to honour Mom after she died. When we were faced with our first Mother’s Day without Mom’s physical presence, we started a new tradition: my dad, brothers and I went to the cemetery to visit her. That first year, it was all still raw. Mom had only passed away seven months prior. We hadn’t erected her tombstone at this point and her grave site was covered with grass.

But something magical happened when we were standing around the site. Among all the grief, we honoured Mom, recalling stories of her life and our time together as a family. We even laughed! We reminisced about our family holidays; Dad would remind us so beautifully of the wonderful life they had together. We talked about how when we first immigrated to Australia from South Africa, Mom would take out my brother’s map book and write out directions for us, every step we needed to take.

It may seem strange to “celebrate” your mother on Mother’s Day at her grave site but since that first time, our family has continued the tradition. Each year we stand around her tombstone – Dad always with a cloth to make sure it is clean – and we reminisce about Mom. We haven’t given up celebrating her. We’ve simply changed the location.

I recall on that first Mother’s Day, friends sending me messages to the effect of “thinking of you”, and people understandably felt awkward to talk about their mothers around me. I never want anyone to feel that way. Just because my mother isn’t physically here doesn’t mean I am not celebrating her. And if you are lucky enough that your mother is here, you should cheer her unconditionally and loudly, and I encourage everyone to do so in front of me. Know that I am with you and for you.

The truth is that while in the last few years of her life Mom was still with us physically, her mind was far gone because of Alzheimer’s. I learned then that even if a person cannot communicate with you or isn’t truly aware, there is still every reason to celebrate that person. The amount of time Mom spent with us and things she did for us our whole lives are worthy of appreciation under any circumstances, regardless of whether she is there physically or mentally.