A Birthday Letter To My Mother
Dear Mother,
Through makeup and tear-stained glass, I cupped my hands along the sides of my face to see you. I glared from outside of your window and was relieved that you were lying comfortably and peacefully.
Neatly tucked underneath you, the thin white blanket, but I noticed your lemon-colored blanket was missing. For the first time in four months, your arms and legs were unexposed. I didn’t make a fuss about the missing yellow blanket because you were motionless and pain-free.
Little did I know that this would be the last time I would see you with breath in your body.
I knew the day was coming, but I thought I had more time. Hmm. We always assume we have more time.
But just one more day would have let Louis and me inside to touch your skin, kiss you, hug you, and say I love you. Maybe even goodbye.
Today would have been your 88th birthday. If you were here, you, me, Louis, your grandkids, Shaina, and Chris would have taken several Hennessy shots with you. You would approve and be happy to know that on this day, we will celebrate your life with shots of your favorite “tea.”
My daughter and mom taking
shots of Hennessy for one of mom’s 80 something birthdays.
In 2016, when Annie passed overnight in her sleep, you tried to hide your grief, but I witnessed your silent and copious suffering. A piece of you is buried with her. I honored your wishes and today your ashes lay next to Annie. I am sure both your souls are delighted.
Sisters Mom (Lena) and Ann
The two were inseparable. They talked on the phone half-dozen times each day and shared unconditional love. They completed the other’s sentence like a set of identical twins. Rarely would you see one without the other.
This stunning picture was taken during the 70’s at their sister, Miriam’s house on Putnum Avenue in Brooklyn, NY
It wasn’t until my friend Barbara Jean pointed out that everywhere I lived, you packed up and took up nearby residence. Even four years ago, moving 800 miles down south with us to the Peach State.
Our relationship was not perfect. We shared intense highs and remorseful lows. Although we rarely agreed, eventually we found a middle ground.
Maturity schooled me to become less of a critic and to swallow my rectitude about you as a mother and as a black woman.
Because of you:
I am a relentless fighter to the end! Don’t be afraid to die fighting for what I believe.
I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks of me.
I can (if I chose) cuss like a sailor.
I am independent and don’t ask people for anything.
I empathize well with others.
I believe in myself even if no one else does.
I can hold my liquor.
I am a kind and loving mother.
I am a woman who isn't afraid to stand up to any man.
I am penny conscious.
I know my way around a kitchen
I learned to accept people as they are.
I can coach other daughters on how to accept their mothers as they are.
I know that F.U. also stands for Florence Urgent!
Thank you for giving me life and for nearly 56 years of laughter and tears. Thank you for being my angel and protector. I will always love you and know that you were ready to depart this earth.
Everyone loved mom’s sassy T-shirts.
Rest in peace, Mother Urgent! You will forever light up my life.
Happy Heavenly Birthday!!
Love,
Tanya