A Tribute to My Mother

I arrived in Atlanta Wednesday night for at a four day training. As I was in the back of the taxi for the 35 minute ride from the airport to Buckhead I thought about my Mother. My father too, for that matter, but this isn't about him. I remembered coming here in third grade to my first and only Atlanta Braves baseball game back when I wanted to be the first female Atlanta Brave baseball player. It's funny, you can laugh. I thought about vacations, her laugh, how she was always trying to give me and my brother everything we wanted. She always loved those big grand gestures. I thought about all the good and fun things she did. 

I have not always been so quick to think or talk about the good things. 

My Mother loved me. She loved me and my brother unconditionally - there is no but. She took care of us and nurtured us in the ways she knew how - she gave us any and everything we wanted, she fought for full custody to keep us safe, she supported and encouraged us, she always told me how beautiful and capable I was, and how proud of me she was. We never left the house without hearing her say, "love you." It was obvious she believed in me and wanted me to believe in me. She is probably the reason I feel I can achieve any goal. My mother always made me feel strong and worthy. More than anything, she wanted me to be happy. And if she couldn't give that to me, she stepped out of the way of the person that could. I think that takes an enormous amount of strength.

She also loved to buy and gift the big and extravagant things especially for her grandkids. I'm pretty sure she's bought 80% of the big toys we have outside - the trampoline, the bikes, the swing set, the hoverboard, Adelynne's kayak, lol. A sandbox once! It seems like all the things. She'd show up. If I needed her, she was there. If she couldn't be there in person, she was on the phone. I never felt unloved. Not once. Not even when I was a teenager, and I was not an easy teenager. I was stubborn, rebellious, angry, and wounded. But she loved me every step of the way. I never doubted if she would be there if I wanted or asked her to be there. And when better life opportunities came, she let me go despite her own personal pain. When I left for Michigan in 2005, I never came back. She cried every time I left. As I grew and changed over the years, she still loved and accepted me just the same, even though, she didn't always understand. One of the last conversations I had with her, within a few weeks of her death, I called to tell her grateful I was for the unconditional love she had given me all these years - I thanked her for that amazing, unwavering, unconditional love. Her response was, "Make sure to give that to your girls, Babygirl." 

I miss her. I woke up two days ago and for just a couple seconds I wanted to call her, forgetting that I couldn't anymore. So, I listened to her voicemails where she called to ask about my new job, another if Bexley had been born yet and if she could come see "her four girls", one pretending she was looking for a house, and another saying she was out of the hospital. It's a double edged sword to hear her voice. I hope she hears mine now. The grief is still stuck in my body -my shoulders, my diaphragm... my heart. And even though I can hear her say, "It's okay, Babygirl, don't cry," the tears still come. My world has not been the same since she left. 

I love you, Momma, I always have, and I miss you. I wanted to come see you just before you died, but I was so scared. Scared of many things, that many people will never understand. I hope you do though; I hope you understand. I was there in spirit. I closed my eyes and imagined holding your hand and holding space for you. I worked tirelessly behind the scenes with your healthcare team ensuring you were comfortable and at peace; I was there. My heart, my Spirit, my thoughts were all there. I really, really hope you felt that. I'm grateful for you and this life that you brought me into.