Amid flowers, gifts, and the echo of a centuries-old anthem, the Dominican Republic celebrates mothers with the same devotion it reserves for Christmas, and for its two spiritual mothers: Our Lady of Mercy, Patroness of the Nation, and Our Lady of Altagracia, its Protector
SANTO DOMINGO – This Sunday morning is bright, even though the Saharan dust insists on making it appear cloudy. After two days and nights of chaotic commerce and traffic, today many Dominican families are finally gathering to honor mothers. They will do so at home, in restaurants, on farms, or even in the cemetery.
Because Dominicans know, with a wisdom that can't be learned from any book, what it feels like: that love for a mother has no expiration date and no boundaries between planes or dimensions. It is, quite simply, ineffable.
In their hands, gifts with multicolored ribbons: pajamas, clothes, books, makeup, dresses, slippers, pillows, or a handmade card. Many will have heard, "Just give me my money back, don't bring me things for the house," and yet someone still brings the blender, the dishes, or the stove that's about to be retired.
Some people rush to make last-minute purchases and opt for plants or flowers, which are offered even at traffic lights, and others will go early to the cemetery, where for days before they will have painted, swept and decorated mausoleums and tombs.
This morning they will arrive with fresh flowers to sit for a while next to the one who is no longer there, because the Dominican honors his mother wherever she may be, at the family lunch table or under a tombstone that he will cover with carnations, roses, lilies, chrysanthemums or plastic flowers from Chinese stores so that they are not taken away to be resold.
On no other day are Dominicans so punctual, so generous, and so sentimental, all at the same time.
The anthem before the party
There's a song that many Dominicans learned in formations, at school events, in classrooms decorated with crepe paper. It's the Hymn to Mothers, written by the poet Trina de Moya around 1925, and recited for the first time in 1926, when Mother's Day was officially established in the country. One hundred years ago.
The poem arrived before the date, as if art had paved the way for the institutions to follow.
In those verses, Trina doesn't describe any one mother in particular, but rather all mothers. The mother as refuge, as first teacher, as the voice that accompanies from the cradle to old age, the child who learns a tender smile, the young person who receives guidance, the elderly person who remembers a prayer. An entire life contained in four stanzas that, a century later, remain in the nation's memory.
Come, all you inhabitants of the countryside and the city,
and let us sing a hymn of intense filial love.
Let us sing of mothers' tenderness, their dedication
and his noble attribute of unparalleled selflessness.
Let us all celebrate the most beautiful festival,
the one that most touches our hearts;
a meritorious celebration, which we honor with it
to all the mothers of creation.
Who, like a mother, with her sweet song,
Our fear dissipates, our pain calms,
simply by offering us her holy lap,
just by singing us love ballads!
From her the child learns the tender smile,
the young man the noble, benevolent action;
The old man remembers his mother's prayer
and in her soul, resignation blossoms.
Come, all you inhabitants of the countryside and the city,
And let us sing a hymn of intense filial love!
– Trina de Moya, c. 1925
Two caring mothers
Dominicans who profess the Catholic faith have, in addition to their biological mothers, two spiritual mothers who watch over them from above. Our Lady of Mercy, Patroness of the Nation, has been linked for centuries to the deepest history of this land. Her feast day in September draws pilgrimages that last for days, but her presence is felt every month of the year.
Our Lady of Altagracia, Patroness of the Dominican people, is perhaps the more intimate of the two. Her image hangs in bedrooms, taxis, and wallets. When someone says, "May Our Lady of Altagracia be with you," they are invoking something older than any state institution. Higüey is her earthly home, but her mantle covers the entire island.
In this country, where the sacred and the everyday coexist in harmony, both devotions are a natural part of today's celebration. Mothers of the spirit for a people who understand motherhood as something that transcends the human realm.
A party that takes place outdoors
Anyone who has experienced Mother's Day in the Dominican Republic knows: it's the only holiday that rivals Christmas in emotional intensity. Restaurants are booked weeks in advance. Beauty salons open from dawn. The aroma of Sunday lunch wafts through the neighborhoods early in the morning.
Families gather today in their honor, those who are seated at the table and those who are now only in memory.
Because here, Mother's Day isn't an individual celebration but a collective, almost liturgical act. We honor our own mothers, our grandmothers, our doting aunts, our ever-present godmothers. We honor the one who raised us without having given birth, the one who left us too soon—and it's always too soon for her to leave.
Today we celebrate one person in particular, and many together, with an urgency that brooks no excuses. Today you must call, you must arrive, and you must be there. And if she can no longer hear you, bring her flowers anyway. And clean her grave. And stay a while.
In some classroom, or in the memory of those who lived it, the verses of Trina de Moya have resonated for a hundred years: "The most beautiful party, the one that most moves our heart.".
The anthem still resonates; the country knows it by heart, and today, once again, it proves it. Because the Dominican people's devotion to their mothers is, quite simply, ineffable.
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