Is there any way we can ever appreciate our Mother’s enough? We’ve taken our Mother’s love for granted how many times, as though she somehow owes it to us and therefore we have no logical reason to be grateful. Living in that “that could never happen to me” bubble that North American children so often live in until it happens to them, we write off instances of abuse, neglect, and abandonment as somehow ‘other’ to our own possible existence. Never realizing that it’s specifically our luck, our divine shower of blessing that has graced us with a Mother’s love who was so limitless, so unconditional, that we couldn’t even fathom the possibility of it somehow not being there. As to death and dying…we never really consider it, do we? That’s not a ‘now’ thing, that’s an eventuality, sometime so far in our distance futures that there’s absolutely no need to appreciate that unique and precious Mother-love that we are receiving- we’ve got time for appreciation later.
I can’t say that my relationship with my Mother has been a perfect, blissful one. Having a teen Mom means you get certain advantages, and disadvantages, over and under those who had parents that were planted firmly somewhere in adulthood and planning and wanting you desperately before you suddenly appeared in their womb. And yet, despite the struggles, despite the mistakes, despite the loooonnnggg learning curve that began in my teens somewhere and lasted til my early adulthood, I can tell you that I wouldn’t change my parents for the world. I feel very, very lucky, and oh so blessed to have been born to these particular parents. I know that sometimes my mother thinks I don’t love her, but if she could live inside of my heart she would know that absolutely nothing could be further from the truth.
I used to feel so guilty for the fact that the other people in this world who I would do anything for, who I would die for, who I would get third degree burns all over my body and lived disfigured and in agony the rest of my life for, who I would trade my own happiness for their own for…could not have my mother. She’s mine, and I know I could get through anything in life as long as I have her…so the strength, the courage, the humility and decency and all that I am in life, I can continue to be with her alive and well and being my invisible support system, even when it’s only in spirit. So even if it would save you a world of pain and agony, even if you are far younger or weaker or need far more help than I do in a much more literal way needing to still be raised, I would not trade my mother being alive so you could have yours. Sorry. In fact, my Mother’s life is non-negotiable. I’m pretty sure she’ll have no reasonable choice but to outlive me…and I plan on living til I’m 120.
Today is my Mother’s first birthday. Yeah. She’s that special that she’s got two, and no it’s not some random invention we came up with for her. Actually, her birth certificate says she is born on March 5th, however my grandmother says that she knows when she pushed a baby out of her, and it was definitely March 2nd. She says the mix-up happened somewhere between Jamaica and Canada, although why it was never corrected if this is true is still slightly beyond me. In any case, we’ve decided to humour the two birthday thing, if only because my mother really and truly deserves it. So, on this first birthday of hers, I felt it only fitting that this Slam Sundays be dedicated to my Mother. As an ode to her and all that she is and all that she does, not only to and for me, but to all of her adopted children in God (she’s a pastor).
So happy birthday Mommy! Know that you are truly appreciated today, and that my love for you is as bright and eternal and all-encompassing as your love is for me.
Happy Sunday to the rest of y’all!