When I was nine, my mother suffered two devastating strokes, leaving her to relearn basic life skills. As she relearned how to walk, talk, eat, and write, our relationship struggled to take on the typical mother-daughter relationship one would expect. I quickly took on the caregiving role, assisting with everything from household chores to personal errands. While I never resented my role, I was unaware of the fleeting nature of our time together. I had never truly thought of the reality of living life without my mom, nor had I simply taken time to ask her about the life she had before me. It wasn't until I was in the throes of grief that I understood the importance of learning her identity, how her experiences shaped her into the incredible woman she was, and how, in turn, those same experiences have left me to carry on her legacy.
After my mother's passing, I discovered a woman far more complex and resilient than I had ever imagined. In the years she walked this earth, I knew her as a loving, fiery spirit. But it was only in her absence that I truly began to appreciate the depth of her character and the challenges she had overcome. In her absence, I learned more of her spirit than I probably would have appreciated while she was here; my oh my, it was a spirit that refused to be dampened.
Born into a time when unplanned pregnancy was considered taboo, my mother faced adversity from a young age. Raised by her relatives, she navigated the complexities of family dynamics from an early age. It was only into her early adolescence that my mother went to live with her biological mother, stepsister, and stepfather. As confusing as it might have been, the family worked to strengthen their bond with each other. Despite early hardships, my mother developed a remarkable strength and resilience that would shape the rest of her life. Even after a stillbirth, the tragic death of her daughter, emotional and physical abuse, and her own severe health complications, family remained sacred to my mother up until she drew her last breath. In her final days, true to her character, my mother was the least concerned about herself, and wanted to make sure her loved ones were okay. I will never forget the times she would wrap her arm around me and smile, as she talked to the nurses and explained she was under the best care and she couldn’t wait to meet her new granddaughter. Nor will I forget one of my most cherished memories of her and my son as they were waiting on me to check out of one of my mother’s many doctors appointments, I looked over to see my mother and my son sitting together, as she tickled him and taught him the song “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” These memories may be fleeting to my son, but they are forever seared into my memory as the strength of a woman who put her love for others over her own needs.
Her commitment to family was unwavering. She nurtured close relationships with her loved ones and spent her life protecting and advocating for children. As a foster mother to her grandchildren and others in the community, she demonstrated a selfless love and compassion that inspired those around her. Although I didn't understand it at the time, my mother strove to make a positive impact in others lives. I remember when foster children would come to stay with us. My mother would always take them shopping for necessities, as they often arrived with nothing other than the clothes on their backs. I specifically remember one child that stayed with us, who had been so abused her protective behaviors made it challenging for her to find foster parents that were able to work with her. A story that would break your heart, my mother found the strength to try and turn that child’s pain into a testament of love for as long as she was able to. Although the child’s stay with us was short lived, I have to think that the kindness my mother showed to this child made some sort of positive impact.
Even though I am biologically her granddaughter, my mother’s love for me is undeniable. Her legacy of love and sacrifice continues to inspire me and my family today. When my biological mother was expecting me, my aunt posed the suggestion of raising me. My (adopted) mother replied along the lines of "she's my grandchild - I will take care of her." Ironically - the same conversation would be had between my sister and I many years later - a testimony of the love and values instilled from my mother passed down to another generation. Even though my (adoptive) mom didn't get to go to sonograms and watch me grow, fate demanded that I was hers and she was mine. Many would say that I had unfortunate circumstances in my life, but I know that God had an ultimate plan to place me with my mother and give me the life I have been so fortunate to live. One of the many things I learned from my mother was to live a life of faith and to make the best out of any situation that has come my way. Her love showed me that regardless of circumstance, we can rise above the status quo and write our own story, a story filled with purpose and unconditional love.
My mother's life was a testament to the power of human resilience and the enduring nature of love. Her memory continues to inspire me every day. When I face challenges, I think of her strength and find the courage to persevere. Her unwavering love and compassion have shaped my own values and motivated me to be a better person. I am forever grateful for her influence on my life. I hope that by sharing her story, I can inspire others to push beyond their own darkness in grief and reframe their pain into a testament of love. After all, my best writings are those about my mother’s love, the legacy she left behind.
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