Letter #2: Charting Forward on Faith

Dear Mom,

I realize several days have gone by since my last letter to you. Yet I have thought about what to say, how to say it amidst the days of rest, prep for class, and interactions with people. Its hard knowing that now you have become a topic of conversation with virtually anyone that knows of the situation to where I expect to hear, "how is your mom?" and now I have scripted lines ready to appease their interest in order for the conversation to move on. "Slowly but surely she's making baby steps on her way to recovery" seems to be my programmed response yet the fact remains these assumptions of progress I have to assume/hope/infer over the phone being several thousands miles from where you are. I worry about you, think about you, and grieve over the connection that has tragically been altered not only because of your unexpected strokes but because of the manipulation and mistreatment both you and I have endured since last July. Last fall my blood would boil when people would say, "Girl, I can't even imagine" or "I just don't know how you deal with what you are." The countless nights that I tried to sleep and seem to have been awake for about 3 months straight I often wondered the same thing, how am I making it through. Through this situation I came to learn up front who my real friends were and also who you were real friends were. It is one thing to call and be nosey and then another to genuinely express concern, offer support, send cards, call and check up on family, etc...My faith was naturally tested and turned upside down as I questioned why something this life altering would be forced on a woman who tirelessly gave of herself, her time, and unending dollars to the world around her and most especially her family. I can still hear you telling me to always keep money in the car to give to those on the street even if you save just a dime for yourself; or your commitment that out of every paycheck received you always donated 10% of your income to predetermined organizations across the country devoted to battered women and children, poverty, homelessness, literacy, etc. Some people can say they wrote a check for 50 dollars or sent some clothes for the Katrina catastrophe yet you and I drove to Sam's and you spent over 500 dollars in items that we both hoped would reach those who really needed it and not remain greedily stocked in the backrooms of wealthy churches.

Knowing your unwavering belief in giving back, the very ones you gave to manipulated the situation in hopes of their benefit. You were so dedicated to 'family' that after your brother was laid off you gave him a job with the company you and a friend created and yet as the years wore on you began to complain that while you took a major paycut in order to pay him, he sat at home and merely collected a check and 'acted like he was working.' Even in my naive understanding, I told you family or not that you needed to fire him and yet you remained committed. Only for that commitment to be betrayed and manipulated for his gain as he stole 20,000 dollars among other things in order to 'preserve the company.' Yet the fact remains that as your only daughter, in trying to move forward I told him that because of your condition things would never be the same and that quite simply 'he needed to get a job.' However, little did I know that those words would hurl me into a cruel relentless world of mistreatment, verbal abuse, defamation of character and I am sure much more than you and I will ever know. According to your brother, I needed to simply 'walk away' from the situation. Having a close tie with you as your only child - only daughter/best friend - and knowing your ways of doing, being, and existence in the world for over three decades, how could I?? If you could read my heart and my spirit and go within mind to see what I bore witness to, hear the words of hatred and cruelty hurled my way you would be ashamed at your family and those close to you --- even your own partner.  I forgive your mother for attempting to shield that she too benefited financially off of you, I forgive your brother for his pure hatred of me and the thief he became and now lives as, I forgive your partner for attempting to ravage the bond that you and I continue to share, and I forgive your mother's family (except for 2) who still never call to ask how am I am holding up.

When I go within myself to see how it is that I continue to maintain face through it all, it is because of the very very few friends of yours who call to check on me to see how I am holding up, who let me know that I am still loved, and that I have a home with them whenever I want to visit. It is because of the vast world of friends I  have forged over the years who held me tight and embraced my pain and offered countless shoulders to cry on. It is also because of my colleagues who always let me know that I could call, stop by, have lunch or dinner if I ever needed to talk. Believe it or not, it is the many students that found themselves in my classrooms and although far from their own young understanding, they became unexpected therapy for me on those days when I would go to work angry or really sad at the situation and yet upon pouring into my room yelling my name excited to see me, I would immediately soften asking myself, how can I stay mad or be depressed when I am doing the very thing that my mother pushed me towards - educating the world and transmitting history. Last but not least, although I still wonder why, my faith has been tested month after month and I know that is only through divine intervention that amidst the river of tears, I never had a nervous breakdown; that I instead continue to push forward on my career and future goals ----- if due in large part to your love, the memories shared with you, and your own sense of urgency you conveyed throughout my life that I tell the stories.  Oh how dearly I miss my mama.

Letter #1: Where To Begin?

Dear Mom,

At the suggestion of one of your friends who misses you dearly she nudged me to write to you, write my story, and essentially write to the world to get through the pain of loss in the way things once were. Funny to be a writer and yet at a loss of words of where to begin on this journey of chronicling how I feel and what I went through. One person said to me last fall that despite ALL of what it is that I went through and the mistreatment I still endure in trying to maintain the connection with you, no one would believe the story if they tried.

Yet, I can only go with what is front of me to begin my own healing/recovery...I'm watching the NBA semi-finals vividly recalling that less than two years ago following the conclusion of my graduate degree I came home to pack and sat for a week hollering at the t.v. almost daily for the Celtics to take the championship, which they did. Less than a year ago once I had moved out Midwest, during 'March Madness' you and texted back and forth laughing at the frenzy of college madness sharing in the NCAA moments. Last fall I hoped to hear from you during the big rival 'Ohio State - Michigan' game which you always knew was a big one for me, and yet the phone never rang. This year I watched March Madness without you, even going further this time to fill out brackets, yet the loss was heavy knowing that I could not call you to ask your suggestion on picks, "did you see that move," and wow I can't believe those 'Blue Devils' really beat Butler.  Funny that  I would start with sports knowing the avid athletes you and I once were...you - volleyball, me - soccer. I was walking on campus the other day when the sweet smell of fresh cut grass filtered over to me and as I walked further I had to hold my head down feeling tears swell up as I thought about the countless teams you put me on, practices you fought traffic to get me to, and the many games you came to and frantically ran up and down the sidelines yelling my name (with the camcorder never on) cheering me on...oh how dearly I miss you, snookums.