Mother's Day 2013

As with most holidays lately, I spent this Mother’s Day coaxing my emotions.  I woke up feeling peaceful and happy.  The Little One, Bralynn Jamila, woke me up with her mild yet eager voice saying, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!”  She handed me a card which her dad took great pleasure in watching me cry through.  But that moment of peace didn’t last.  As soon as I was alone again, I immediately began to miss my mother.  This was the second Mother’s Day without her.  I was lonely for her and sad.  So I decided to visit her grave site.

I nearly talked myself out of it a couple of times.  Then I realized that I had not gone on Mother’s Day the year before (successfully convinced myself that it wasn’t necessary).  The flowers I purchased, rode around with me in my truck for an entire year.  It was those flowers that made me decide to go visit her.

As Bralynn slept in the back seat, my husband and I ventured to the site.  I was uncomfortable.  You see, I have a hard time grasping that I’m actually visiting my mother there because she is NOT there.  She’s always with me.  I know that!  I feel her energy holding me, supporting me.  But for some strange reason, I felt the need to go see the cement stone that marks the place where we laid her to rest.   I’d left the one year old flower in the truck and needed to go back to the site before we left.  I asked Brad if he mind if I went alone. 

As I took steps to the grave site, I could feel the universe moving in some way.  I knew that I was being lifted from one emotion to the next.  It wasn’t an assumption.  It was a physical movement.  By the time I got to Mama’s tomb stone for the second time that day, I fell to my knees beside it. 

“Oh Mama!”  I could utter no other words.  I began to pray and before I realized what I was even saying, I heard myself saying, “Thank You God!” 

In this life, very little is certain.  We have no idea where we are going or why we are going there.  We have very little insight into our purpose, for the most part.  We just live.  But there is one thing that is certain without any doubt.  We all have one mother.  There is one woman who gives us life.  No matter what the relationship turns into with your mother, you only have one and there is never any question about that.

Since my mother’s transition, I have found it difficult to hear from women who don’t cherish their mothers.  Now, I’m not judging.  I realize that no one is perfect.  I know that there are women who bare children who shouldn’t.   I know there are women who aren’t “good” mothers.  I have met women who are not very good at making the right decisions for their children.  That’s ok.  We are human.  But not having my mother around has taught me that the relationship between a mother and her child is very precious.  It should not be taken for granted.  We get do-overs in many areas of life.  You will never get a do-over with your mother.  You can’t replace her with someone else.  The one who carried you is the one you get.

I wasn't the best daughter.  In fact, I gave my poor, sweet mother all the hell I could muster in high school.  I’m sure that it was only her prayers and faith in God that kept me alive; not to mention graduate.  I tried to run as far away from her as I could after my father passed away.  Funny that now, as a mother, I understand her strategy better than I did then.  Back then, I thought she didn’t love me because it seemed that she didn’t notice that I was breaking curfew, drinking, partying, fighting, getting involved with a gang.  I wondered what kind of mother doesn’t pay attention to her child being wild and fast in the streets.

I went through a streak of terrible choices.  I was in detention more than the detention teacher.  I was so close to expulsion that it’s embarrassing.  But then one day, I knew I’d pushed her as far as she was willing to go.  I came home and told her that I was suspended, again.  This was probably the third time in one year – my senior year.  Before now, when I came home with news such as this, she just kind dropped her head and quietly left the room.   This time though, while I expected her reaction to be the same, she flipped.

“I don’t know what to do with you”, she cried.  “You know if your daddy was here, you would not be acting like this, Funmi.”  “What am I suppose to do?”  She then uttered the words that changed the course of my life.  “If you that grown and you cannot follow my rules, you can get the hell outta my house.”

WOW!  I’m the baby.  I’ve heard her say that to my brothers before.  But I’d never heard her say that to my two older sisters.  I thought she hated me.  I managed to finish high school.  I enrolled in college.  By 16, I was out of the house and I never returned to live under my mother’s rules.  I was grown in my opinion.  But now I realize that I was still a baby.  In fact, at 39, I am still a baby.

Sometimes mothers have to make hard decisions.  It’s not the easiest thing to do when you have to let your child go fully aware that life's going to beat the crap out of them.  Mother's know when their child is ready for life and when they aren't.  It’s a great struggle. I wasn't ready for life, but life was ready for me.  So, I did what many daughters do.  I ran out into the world and did a lot of messing up.  Fortunately, my mother was able to see me make a turnaround before her earthly life ended.  It took a long time but I managed to get myself together.

I realized, as I stood next to Mama's grave, that while I miss my mother’s presence, I am very thankful for the lessons she taught me; the tough love she gave to me.  She allowed me to make my own mistakes - and they were plenty.  She allowed me to create my own path whether she agreed with my choices or not.  I’m sure if she could, she would have stopped me from moving in with my boyfriend at 17 – who later turned out to be abusive.  I’m sure, if she could, she would have stopped me from dropping out of college.  I’m sure if she could have, she would have stopped me from quitting a very good job in Atlanta to move back to Mississippi.  But she couldn’t.  Rather, she wouldn’t.  She knew she was raising a girl to one day be a woman.  The tough choices are a part of life.  I thank The Creator for a mother with enough love for me to let go and let me find my own way.  Even through the cuts and bruises, I survived and I grew strong. 

This Mother's Day helped me realize just how thankful I am for my mother.  Not just the regular way that kids say "thanks, mama".  I'm thankful for Mary E. Spencer being born and for bringing me into this world.  I am thankful specifically for MY mother.  She was a very special woman with immeasurable stregnth.  I know this because I tried her and she never broke.  She stood tall after death stole her son and her husband.  She stood tall when she had to teach herself how to run a household; learn a skill/trade; learn how to be a father and mother to an unruly child.  She was/is my idea of what a mother should be.  I was fortunate enough to get well into my 30’s before I had to learn to live without her.  But, because of her choices, I am here and I am able to see my daughter as my mother saw me.  I am thankful for that opportunity.  I am thankful for the love and the bond that we share, still.  She is remains with me and I hope she never leaves.  But, I know that if I can’t feel her, I can go to the grave site and visit where I last saw her.  If for no other reason, but to say – thank you!