This love is so personal and so intimate that I have rarely spoken of it. For long months after she passed away, I couldn’t even say the word “mother”. I remember being at CVS and realizing it was Mother’s Day and leaving immediately in tears.
I realized recently that I had given my daughter an impression that I loved her paternal grandmother the most, partly because I spoke of her often. This is something that I do not wish anyone to think. It is my mother who has my heart *more and always*.
The most important gift that my mother gave me was adult acceptance. No matter what our discussion included, she always accepted me.
I tried not to model my life after hers. In the end I did to my daughters what she had done to me. She neglected me during my childhood and I suffered. I thought I was being different with my life. I went to school, got a couple of degrees and worked full time in white collar jobs. Mama worked as a bartender for the last thirty years of her life. Several years during the time of my childhood she worked two jobs or split shifts. She was always trying so hard to feed us. We were home alone. Inevitably, I did the same to my daughters, I left them home alone while I worked two jobs or attended school for my master’s degree.
Mama was the center of my universe. She was my go-to, my wisdom, my fail safe. She accepted me perfectly and loved me fiercely. Of course, she was my center. Twenty five years ago on MLK Day we went car shopping. We spent the whole day together without any little ones. We went to lunch and talked and talked. When I went back to work the next day, my soul was full. I felt loved and treasured.
Less than three weeks later, mama passed away. They called me in the middle of the night saying that she had a stroke. I got in the shower to get ready to go and while I stood there, I felt an energy rush that stopped with my body. I felt my mother and a full measure of her grief. I felt her saying to me with sorrow “I have to go”. I tried in my soul to grab her and hold her, it was desperate, but she was gone.
