A Seat for Mom

Mother’s Day has never been about grand speeches or perfect plates.

It’s about the women who showed up — in the ways that mattered most.
Some through fierce love. Some through quiet strength. Some through simple, steady kindness.

This table isn’t set by bloodlines or titles.
It’s set by loyalty, heart, and the ones who made a place for you when the world didn’t.

This table is for my mother, AnnMarie — whose strength shaped every step I ever took.
For Jackie, my wife — the heart of every story still being written.
For MJ — my sister, my fighter, my first friend.
For Nana — who made space for pancakes, life talks, and the kind of simple moments you only appreciate once you’re grown.
For Grammy — my fiercest protector, my greatest fan, and the one who made sure I knew that being built a little different was something to laugh about and live through.
For Barbara — my mother-in-law, who carries grace in every small moment.
For Jackie’s Gram — whose love, legacy, and legendary mashed potatoes have fed more than one generation at the table — and whose handwritten letters have never let a birthday pass without heart.
For Aunt Kathi — whose wisdom, toughness, and skill have stitched more than a few stories — and a whole lot of heart — into this family.
For Auntie Gin — my godmother, whose fierce loyalty never once wavered.
For Auntie Pattie — who brought light and laughter into every Saturday morning, and whose fierce heart and work ethic showed me what showing up really looks like — no questions asked.
For Auntie Isabel — whose quiet kindness reminds me that love doesn’t have to be loud to be felt.
For Auntie Di — who brought adventure and laughter to the early chapters of my story.
For Auntie Susan — who showed up when it counted, giving rides and moments that mattered more than she knew.
For Mrs. Cronin and Mrs. Masterson — who fed more than stomachs; they fed souls.
For the teachers who believed in me — like Miss Horan, Mrs. Chisholm, and Mrs. Cullen.
And to those whose names may not be listed, but whose hearts and hands made a difference — your seat at the table is here too.

Every dish on this table tells a story.
Every seat at this table was earned.

This Mother’s Day, we cook for them.
We honor them.
We remember that what we carry forward was built by the hands that made a place for us.

Pull up a chair.
The table is set.