Rewriting Mother’s Day: The Space We Didn’t Know We Needed (Win!)

For those navigating Mother’s Day without a mom, the day can feel complicated, heavy, and often isolating. Enter The Parentless Club—a growing Canadian non-profit co-founded by Nikki Lewis and Amanda Katz that’s transforming grief into connection, and creating space for a very different kind of gathering. As Motherless Day approaches, we caught up with Nikki to talk about the evolution of the movement, why community matters more than ever, and how she’s turning what’s traditionally a difficult day into something unexpectedly healing—and even a little bit joyful—via three May 10 events in Vancouver, Winnipeg and Toronto. —Noa Nichol

Since we last spoke, The Parentless Club has grown into a registered non-profit—what has that journey been like, and what’s changed (or deepened) for you personally?

It’s been really surreal. What started as an idea based on a gap identified has since grown into something much bigger than us. Becoming a registered non-profit in Canada has offered us credibility when working with partners, but more importantly, it has allowed us to expand what we can offer, and think long-term about how we support even more people navigating parent loss, in even more ways. 

Better yet, while we already can receive donations via our Website, our next step is to register as a charitable foundation which will allow us to issue tax receipts to individuals and corporate sponsors to drive event greater impact! 

For me, it’s validated the need and desire for us to do more — and that requires a larger investment of effort and time. It’s deepened my sense of commitment, but also connection to the community.  But as we scale, we’ll continue to prioritize keeping the heart of it the same. It still needs to feel intimate and comforting. 

Last year, you described “rewriting Mother’s Day”—how has your understanding of what people need from that day evolved after seeing the community show up?

I think last year showed us that people don’t necessarily need something extravagant; instead, they just need something real. And that’s exactly what The Parentless Club events are all about.

While there’s no one way people want to grieve on that day—some people want to talk about their moms all afternoon, some people don’t want to say much at all—one thing remains clear: they want to feel less alone. 

So this year, it’s been less about programming every moment and more about creating a space that feels open and flexible. A place where people can show up exactly as they are without feeling like they’re supposed to be doing/feeling/thinking a certain way. 

The event has expanded to multiple cities—what has it been like to watch something so personal become something so widely needed?

We always say it’s bittersweet. It’s equal parts beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

Beautiful because it means more people are finding connection and community. But also a reminder of just how many people are navigating this kind of loss, often quietly and without a space or community for it.

I think it’s reinforced that while loss isn’t niche, it’s something we don’t talk about in a relatable, approachable way, enough. 

And once you open that door, people are ready to walk through it.

There’s something powerful about calling it “the pity party people actually want to go to”—why do you think humour and honesty resonate so strongly in spaces of grief?

Grief is already heavy, and you never know when that heaviness is going to hit hardest. So, when you can bring a little bit of lightness and levity into it, it creates room to breathe and explore love that existed  as part of the loss. 

Humour makes things feel more human. It takes away some of the pressure to be composed or to say the “right” thing. And honesty does the same because it lets people call a spade-a-spade and avoid the assumptions people make about how we feel. 

“The pity party you actually want to go to” works because it says: we know this is hard, and we’re not going to pretend otherwise. But we can still sit in it together, and bring a little fun and levity into it too. Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean we should ever stop celebrating them.  

You’ve described The Parentless Club as “the best friend when your best friends can’t understand”—can you share more about that?

Friends can be incredibly supportive. But, to no one’s fault, if they haven’t experienced this kind of loss, there’s just a layer they can’t fully meet you in, despite doing their best to be empathetic. 

What we’ve seen through The Parentless Club is how powerful it is to be in a room or an environment where you don’t have to explain anything. People just get it. And they get that our loss isn’t something that “happened” to us—it’s something we carry every day. So what comes with The Parentless Club is a shorthand to the conversations and a shared understanding that makes people feel instantly more at ease.

It doesn’t replace existing friendships though. Rather, it fills a gap for those days that are really hard to fill otherwise.

This year’s Vancouver event is more intimate—how do you balance growth with maintaining that feeling of safety, connection, and realness?

We think about this a lot. Even though the Vancouver event has doubled in size, we’ve been really intentional about keeping it feeling intimate. That shows up in the venue choice, the aesthetics, the layout, the pacing, and the kinds of experiences we bring in. We’re not trying to scale in a way that loses the feeling—we’re trying to grow with it. 

You’re now introducing Fatherless Day as well—how does grief differ across those experiences, and what conversations are you hoping to open up?

The core feeling of loss is similar, but we’ve noticed the way people experience and talk about it can be really different. Even through semantics and the language they use. Some people refer to their loss as “losing their mom”, while others reference “I’m a member of the dead dad club”. 

All of our events piggyback on what the day typically looks like. While Motherless Day leans into the florals, brunch and creative activities, Fatherless Day is intentionally more casual (think: beer, bbq and great conversation). The intent remains the same: spend the day how our moms and dads would want to spend it.  

It’s not about comparing losses, but rather, it’s about acknowledging that there are different experiences within it, and making space for more of them. Because they’re all needed.

What’s one moment or story from the past year that has stayed with you and reminded you why this work matters?

At last year’s Motherless Day, two people, with a 10 year age gap, met who had never connected before. They didn’t talk about their relationship status or what they do for a living. Casually, one woman had mentioned she was reaching a point where she was soon to have lived more years without her mom than with. And the same went for the woman sitting next to her. 

Now, they see each other regularly — it may have been an unconventional way to have met a friend, but there’s no denying that their stories resonated with each other and became the foundation for something greater. 

And that’s the kind of thing you can’t really plan for. It’s a reminder that this isn’t just about a single day, it’s about what happens after, too. The friendships, the support systems, the feeling of having someone who truly gets it.

For someone who might be newly navigating the loss of a parent and dreading days like Mother’s Day, what would you want them to know right now?

That they’re not alone in it. Even if it feels that way, even if no one in their immediate circle understands, there are people who do. 

At The Parentless Club we always say: “We may be without them, but we have each other—and that’s more than we had before.” 

And, there’s no one way to navigate the big days or the unexpected ones. There’s no should-dos. There’s only leaning into what feels right for you and not anticipating how you will feel. Lean into what you feel, even if it’s the last thing you expected.

Win! Tickets To The Parentless Club’s Motherless Day Event In Your City!

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