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For some, Mother's Day is a chance to celebrate the most important woman in their lives. For others, it is a painful reminder of a deprived childhood.

Some think it's just a poor excuse to buy more stuff.

Globe readers shared their personal stories — good and bad — about what this day means.

Annie Steel from Vancouver writes: This year is a break in tradition. Normally we get together at my maternal grandmother's house for a huge feast and celebrating the incredible women I am blessed to have in my life. I love grabbing large amounts of bright tulips and daffodils to fill a few vases as I feel they reflect the joy we share. I am a first generation Canadian that has very recently moved away from my family. I have sent cards and arranged for the flowers to be delivered but it will be very hard to be away from everyone on Sunday. To my mom and Baka - you are the most amazing people I have ever met and I must have been exceptionally good in a past life to merit such giving, loving, positive people such as yourself. I am unbelievably lucky - I miss you, I love you, I owe all my strength and determination to the security that your love and support give me. You've overcome so much adversity and still meet every challenge with a smile and a quiet assurance that it will be alright. I'll never run across a border monitored by snipers while pregnant or (hopefully) emerge out of a coma full steam ahead but I know that the ability to overcome is within me because I come from such stellar stock. :)

Velma from Burlington writes: This will be my first Mother's Day without my mom, as she passed away in September 2007. Over the past few years, the day was always spent as a family, having dinner at my brother's house. My three brothers and I would buy cards and small gifts, and each would contribute something for dinner. The important thing was spending the time together.

My husband lost his mother two years ago, so this year will be difficult for us. We are joining some friends for lunch at a Niagara winery. One of our friends lost her mother this past month. I believe we will all be lifting our glasses in tribute to the special women who raised us, and continue to have a lasting impact on all of our lives.

Paul Jones from Kitchener writes: Mothers day traditions? Well, in my family my sis and I tend to do most of the chores our mother does that day. We tell her how much we appreciate her, and then as a family we sit around and bash Hallmark and any woman who feels entitled to gifts that come with a price tag. We do usually get her a card and a flower or two. It's the only thing out of sync with our attitude towards this Hallmark Holliday.

Lary Waldman from Qualicum Beach writes: Mother's Day may have had some meaning in the 1950's. My wife and I live in the 21st Century and view these man-made holidays as an opportunity for people to sell more needless merchandise. This year for Mothers Day I am going to give the guitarist at the government liquor Store $20 and I don't even drink. These holidays are driving a spike between those that have and those that have not. The sooner we see this for what it is the better off we will all be. Brunch, forgive me, I'm busy.

Frank Black from Vancouver writes: She's in Heaven now but she supported me from the cradle to the grave, 'Wonderful Mother'

Ferelith Hoffmann-Taylor from Tobermory writes: I will take my 'Mum', her dearest friend and my brother out for a Mother's Day dinner. A special day for special people. My mother is 89, funny, a wonderful role model and a great lady.

Plain Jane from Toronto writes: Not everybody has a mom that they care about, or who cares about them. Some people rightfully choose to ignore their mothers because not every mother actually loves her child. For me, Mother's Day is the day I sit back and enjoy living life without her. I know it goes against the standard line that we all hear on TV, but as I've come across more people with a family background like my own, I realize that the whole 'mothers loving their children' thing isn't necessarily a standard practice.

Jeff Ring from Regina writes: This Mother's Day will be different for me. I recently lost my mother. Other years was a matter of going to the home that she was a resident of and giving her a card. This year I will be at her final resting place and leave a flower. On a happy note for my wife: breakfast in bed, cards and flowers and a night out of the kitchen. She will be attending a tea at my daughter's school on Friday for all the mothers in her grade.

Robert Blakey from Calgary writes: My mother, the only person I know of her generation who could still fit in her wedding dress, is at 81 full of energy. In retirement, she has crisscrossed North America and parts of Europe, thanks to savings from a long-time job that paid modestly. Friends and descendants are in awe of her energy, positive outlook and independence. But, interestingly, that's not the image I have of her from my childhood. Back then, Winifred Blakey (née Lawrenson) was more a quiet, unassuming pillar of strength. Born in Lancashire, England, in 1926, she met my father during the Second World War and married while he was still in uniform. After my post-war birth, they decided to emigrate. Dad left first, and Mum and I joined him later after an adventure by ship and train to Moose Jaw. There were some hard years at first, and my mother always had to work full time except when very pregnant with my brother and sister. In contrast to adults in her early circle of family and friends, she never smoked or drank, but wasn't preachy about it. Virtually all those people are dead, so she has made new friends in recent years. She's "Grandma Winnie" to her seven grandchildren who, like her children, appreciate her love, warmth and generosity. That aspect has never changed. I remember her rushing to buy me a pair of black jeans when I was five because I was afraid of being teased by Canadian kids for my English schoolboy shorts. It probably smashed that week's budget, but no other purchase by my mother is so fixed in my memory. I still wear black, never blue, jeans. All her working life, the last half spent near Seattle, my mother longed to board a plane and see some of the world. But when she and Dad could finally afford a little travel, his health went into a long decline. He became housebound and in need of her care. After he died of emphysema and lung cancer in 1996, Mum downsized her home and finally got a life — for which we all admire her. She's simply amazing.

Karen Baird from Edmonton writes: What if your birth mother doesn't want to meet you, your adoptive mother stayed with the man who tried to sexually assault you even after she found out, and your father's companion of 30 years has said 'I love you' once? Everything I learned about motherhood and maternal warmth and unconditional love was from everyone else's moms. Yeesh. Mother's Day is a day I associate with angst. I should feel a certain way, they should have been better mothers, what card/gift should I get that would be appropriate? Blech. My mother-in-law is the first mother figure I've had who is amazing. She gives of her time, energy and effort in so many ways to my husband, myself and our two dogs. She (and my father-in-law) fills me with gratitude, laughter and love - for her, love is a verb. It only took me 38 years to find her. And her son is much the same - I count myself blessed to have them in my life.

Albin Forone from Canada writes: Sadly my Mom, who made the best dumpling soup, who embarrassed us other kids with her fierce, unreasonable, caustic, almost violent insistence on getting our disabled sister the best long-term care, with the twinkle in her eye about Dad's foibles and outright failings, is gone. Sometimes I think we need a special Day for appreciative celebration of the departed.

Vijay Kumar from Ottawa writes: I loved my mom. She died when I was 10. I will always love her and I will always cherish her memory in my heart. She was the best mom in the world and I miss her. Take good care of your mom you guys. You will miss her when she is gone.

Marian Olson from Canada writes: I dare you to print a less-than heartwarming tribute. Hallmark Days all deserve a reality check to balance the sugar. Bad old Mom, dead almost 20 years, and I'm still trying to forget a thoroughly nasty, vindictive alcoholic who took great pleasure in belittling me, a bright but rather homely child, desperate to be loved, sandwiched between two good-looking brothers. Whatever I achieved in life was in spite of this miserable woman, not because of her. She told me often that I - by my very existence - had 'ruined' her life, and no doubt her primitive response was to try and ruin mine. It didn't happen, and I can only say that I exist because she didn't have access to abortion.

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