Mom

One year ago today, my mother left this world for the next. The day I feared for most of my life had come. I didn't realize it until much later but it was a day that silenced me. I was literally planning the revamp of this blog thing on the day I got the call.

I don't really feel it necessary to discuss the accident that resulted in her passing. If you really want to know, Google the details and keep them to yourself. All I care to say about that day is that words become trite and useless in the face of grief, especially a sudden loss. For weeks, the summary of conversations with my beloved family and friends was: "I don't know what to say."

The journey of grief is one that I never want to get good at navigating, but it comes with many lessons I hope to share through the rest of my life. There is one thing that keeps surfacing for me: what do you say about a person's life?

I'm blessed to have a great community of people around me and my family, many who described my mother in special ways. The private and public tributes are appreciated. I'd like to start my own. Here's what I want you to know about my Mom:

My Mom was a nerd. Growing up, I knew I was a nerd because the kids at school saw my glasses at six years old and said "nerd." That became alright by me: both my parents wore glasses and glasses meant I (we) could see. She liked nerdy things on top of the glasses. She introduced me to her love of science fiction. I'm a proud second-generation Trekkie because of my mom. The premiere of Star Trek: The Next Generation (back when we had to watch TV as it aired) was a fun moment. I was proud to take my Mom and my sister to the first Chris Pine Star Trek movie. That's not the only thing. Everyone who knew her knew she loved music. I think we share the same nerdy musical genes: we sing higher than the key of the song and don't really do instruments well. But she loved to dance. For such a nerdy person, Mom could throw a party. Maybe because she was a nurse - basically a scientist - but she loved figuring things out like a real nerd. A family recipe, an assembly-required piece of furniture, or a new feature of her iPhone - don't just tell her. She wanted to find out. Asking great questions was also a specialty. If you're in my life and sick of me asking questions, blame her.

My Mom was an edifier. You may have heard that she was tough; that was true. The secret was she was tough on those she loved and saw the potential to take the criticism. This one was not immediately obvious to me as a child. Like most kids, I did not appreciate her high standards back in the day or what she had to say about how to do things. Our relationship post-college was highlighted by her encouraging me and giving me stellar advice. Amazing how the ears of hard-headed youth opened when it stopped sounding like "because I said so." Talk about a living example: there's too many people that my parents brought into my life because they met them at a low point and got an encouraging word. Somehow, I've found myself in situations - even in the depths of grief - saying to my people "now, this is some advice you didn't ask for..." That's all Mom. That corporate slogan, "feedback is a gift"? Mom didn't write it but she lived it. And the part that uplifts you and keeps you going forward was her specialty.

My Mom was a patriot. I come from a proud Jamaican family. As we say, we come from "country." At her feet I learned what being Jamaican meant and shared her curiosity how aspects of the culture came to be. Patois wasn't just my way to prove to Jamaicans I met outside my family that I was a yardie fi true. It was our language. I take pride in the similes, metaphors, proverbs, and non-verbal expressions from the same foothills she ran up and down as a child. She was also a proud American. My parents came to this country by choice and taught their kids about its greatness. We may have spoken like Jamaicans and home but she taught me the strictest standard English she knew. Eighth grade grammar was a breeze thanks to Mom. She wanted the best for me academically and she wanted me to fit in to this American society even more. This land of opportunity is one where amazing things can happen. Despite everything she saw and endured here, she believed that and wanted us to soak up all the blessings we could here. When I think I can't do any more, I think of what she and Dad and their parents did to get me here. I can never take the wind at my back from the ancestors for granted.

Mom was a woman of faith. Even though her life here ended abruptly, I know where she is. I don't understand why the tapestry of life has been woven like this. Yet she taught me that believing in Jesus meant we would see each other again in Heaven. The only way I can make my Mom proud now is to live. Living morally, serving others, learning where I can, and speaking out against injustice are all on the menu. Witnessing the end of my mother's earthly ministry is a strong kick in the rear to keep mine going. "Get going," she would say. That way my future children and those I care for in my life will have great things to say about me.

To Mom. I love you. I'm proud of you. Thank you.

Walk good.