On Becoming 28 Without Her...



"When you lose a mother, there's no longer a fantasy of being able to go home to mommy. You get thrown head first into the water, and you have to learn how to swim."

~"Motherless Daughters"

Today, at 11:45 am I will take my first living breath as a 28 year old woman; and it will be the eleventh birthday I've spent without my mother. There have been many days, where I have sat and pondered what her experiences of birth must have been like. When I've wanted to ask her what her first thoughts were when she knew I was gowing in her womb? What were her cravings? Did her feet swell? I have found myself imagining, wondering about the toil, the anticipation, the sheer joy it must have been to finally have me come careening out into the fullness of the world. Our initial meet and greet, our first communication... What it must have meant to her to impress upon her daughter her namesake.

I more than miss my mother, my soul simply aches for her. I have no means to fully express the propensity of my emotions, for I know no words that could accurately portray the vast space where her presence once stood. There is a permanent void in the recesses of who I am, a blackness that has shaped the pathways of my life. And I have had to learn through trial and error to view the darkness of her passing, as marker which fully gives shape to the light... My light... In her absence, I've learned exactly what she said I would... that I in fact have so much more to learn... lol.. These days, she would be glad to know that I make full attempts at being my authentic self and living my best life, that I'm in constant gratitude for each day (even when I'm complaining...lol)... I know that there is no day like today, no moment like the one at hand, and I may not get another, so I must take full ownership of this one. I sow the seeds of my heart, and I watch them grow... and Grow... and GROW...

But for the life of me, every 16th of February... I am stagnant and delayed in my approach, and I simply want to have one more conversation with her and tell her once more... Thank you! Thank you for being all that you where and molding me into all that I am, and eventhough I had to figure out womanhood on my own, had you not been there to be the example, I would have surely had no base, no pedastal of which to stand.

As it stands now, I'm not one for huge birthday celebrations, caravans of folks at some loud ass place choppin' it up (Not that there is anything remotely wrong with that)... but my heart is always quiet on this day, I simply want and seek a word from her. It is quite difficult for me to express this sentiment to others not in my predicament, they can't overstand, and I don't really expect them too. For me, my birthday not only represents another notch in my belt to hoot and holler about, but it exemplifies my full connection and consequent seperation from my mother, the crown jewel of my life. It's a very mixed bag of emotions for me, and I'm quite sensitive about it.

Vernel... I am so glad that I was the flower the Creator chose to pick for your garden. That you and my father sowed seeds so deep in my being that I can still find light in the darkest of circumstances. And though this grief is cyclical, I always know that there is a "morning" to my "mourning", and that the light of the world still illuminates my path! I will celebrate my birthday doing exactly what you put on my heart! I will be a blessing to somebody else through acts of love, in the way you always loved me... whole-heartedly, with no inhibitions, with my whole self... and yes, I will have some "fatty gurl"cake!

Happy Birthday to me, and thank GOD for my mother... SELAH!