Moms, remembered

There’s a collage in Katrina Zborowsky’s bedroom that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The collection of fragments is tangible evidence that Zborowsky, 32, has successfully navigated yet another Mother’s Day after the loss of her mother Doris, 57, in a cycling accident in September 2020.

Doris died at the scene and Zborowsky never got to say goodbye.

“My mom was my best friend. She and I were very alike in so many different ways, and ever since she passed I’ve gone through a million waves of grief, all coming up in different ways or forms,” Zborowsky says.

Zborowsky came to dread the second Sunday in May, when Mother’s Day is celebrated in North America.

From late April onwards Zborowsky braced herself for the onslaught of advertisements, her social media feed cluttered with gift suggestions and brunch ideas as the occasion morphed into an event largely co-opted by businesses.

The day was no longer one of commemoration but rather a feat of endurance: 24 hours to survive until her timeline returned to regular programming.

For years Zborowsky did what many in her position do — she retreated.

“The past Mother’s Days without my mom were very tough,” she says. “It was very isolating. I didn’t dare open social media. I just wanted to watch TV and let the day pass by.”

Then in 2024, she discovered there was another way after she stumbled upon an Instagram post for Motherless Day in Toronto.

Coincidentally, she was in the city that weekend and, with some encouragement from her friends, decided to attend.

There is a specific kind of relief to be in a room where the central trauma is understood without being interrogated, Zborowsky says.

“I was very nervous, but it was so welcoming and wholesome,” she says of her first visit.

“It was cool to be with people who inherently knew how I was feeling. My friends have always been very considerate of what the day is like when you don’t have a mom, but it’s still nice to be surrounded by people who just get it, even if they are strangers.”

The inaugural gathering in Toronto was organized by the not-for-profit Parentless Club. Co-founders Amanda Katz and Nikki Lewis each lost their mothers as they were entering adulthood.

Katz, 31, spent her early years in River Heights before moving to Ontario with her family. Zborowsky bringing Motherless Day here is not only a surreal feeling but also a homecoming of sorts, she says.

“I feel such a personal connection to Winnipeg,” she says. “My mom Jocelyn grew up there; I grew up there and it’s also where my mom is buried. But mainly it’s about continuing to reach the people who need us.

“We always call the Parentless Club the one no one wants to be a part of, but if you’re in it, you’re less alone. And the reality is, the club keeps growing. The only certainty in life is that at some point, we’ll be exposed to loss. And the more spaces we can create, especially on ones like Mother’s Day that hold such a weight when our moms are no longer with us, the less isolated people feel in their loss.”

The vibe at the gatherings is deliberately low-key. Unlike traditional support groups, there is no forced sharing, no circle of chairs, no pressure for catharsis.

Instead, guests are invited to keep their hands busy with crafts and collaging, but there is no requirement to participate. If they want to sit still and observe, they can.

The following year, the impossible happened: Zborowsky actually found herself looking forward to May and made sure she was in Toronto for the second gathering.

“I saw people from the first year who I hadn’t seen since the first gathering, and I also made new friends,” she says.

The experience was so transformative that she approached Katz and Lewis about bringing the concept home to Winnipeg.

Now Zborowsky is setting the table here and the response has been overwhelming — the $65 ticketed event sold out within a month of her announcing it.

She’s received messages from friends and strangers alike, school mates she hasn’t seen in decades and other Winnipeggers who can relate to feelings of grief.

Zborowsky’s journey from staying secluded at home to hosting Motherless Day represents a shift in the way she has been managing her profound loss.

It is an acknowledgement that while her mother is gone, Zborowsky’s desire to do something for her endures.

“My mom’s been gone for 51/2 years,” she says. “It still sometimes feels just like yesterday, but then also feels like ages ago.

“When I went to my first event, I felt like I was still doing something for my mom, something I maybe would do with my mom. I feel like she’d want to go to this event. I have moments of wishing I could tell her.”

Her family — aunts, her father and her stepfather — have told her how proud her mother would be that she’s turning her loss into something others can benefit from.

“For me, it’s not just about honouring my mother. It’s also an invitation to be in that day in a very different way. It’s acknowledging the grief journey you are on, taking myself out of isolation and walking towards connection with people who understand.”

Zborowsky still has the crafts she made at the Motherless Day events in Toronto.

“The first year we created little photo frames with pressed flowers. The second year we did the collaging. Both I have in my bedroom, on display, so I can see them all the time,” she says.

It’s evidence of a day that didn’t swallow her whole.

To learn more about Parentless Club, visit parentlessclub.com. To be on a wait-list if last-minute tickets come up for the May 10 Motherless Day gathering — 11 a.m.-2 p.m. at Parcel Pizza, 221 A Stradbrook Ave. — follow @parentlessclub on Instagram.

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