I don’t even know where to begin because there’s just so
much I want to say and no words can express what I’m thinking and feeling right
now. So forgive this post. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… I am not
a writer. My writing is just exactly what I’m thinking with very little
editing. Tonight, there will be no editing whatsoever. I am guaranteed to be an
emotional wreck when I’m finished. So again, forgive what may be poor writing
and look beyond it to the content of the writing.
My momma. What a wonderful amazing woman she was. As a
little girl I idolized her. I wanted to wear her make-up and clothes and be as
cool as she was. As a teen I struggled with my view of her. Part of me loved
that all my friends loved her and part of me resented that she was way cooler
to my friends than I was. She just had this light that drew everyone to her. As
a woman I miss her, I appreciate her in ways I couldn’t have when I was young.
My mom was so flipping fun. When I was a little girl we were
poor. We didn’t really have money to do much and when we did it was often
because of someone else’s kindness. My mom worked a couple of jobs and went to
college. She still found the time to enjoy the little stuff with my sisters and
I though, the stuff that didn’t cost a whole lot of money. We had living room
picnics on dreary days for no reason at all. We’d have family movie nights and
my mom would make popcorn and homemade milkshakes. We’d go for rides on back
roads just to listen to music on the radio and relax. She’d even make the car
boogie back and forth when the road was clear.
There are a few memories of my mom and the car that everyone
remembers. When my sisters had softball tournaments my mom and I would go (she’d
make me go to show my support) and drive behind the school bus. She blast MC
Hammer as load as it would go. The girls in the back of the bus could hear it
and were dancing right along with us. She always brought those little juice
jugs for everyone on the team too. Then when I got a bit older she’d go tooling
with my friends. Yep, that’s right, with MY friends. Sometimes I’d go out with
my boyfriend or something and come home to find out my friends had called my
mom to go tooling with them.
My mom was like that with all our friends. It was something
I loved and hated at the same time. My mom worked for a non-profit Juvenile
Jail Diversion program. Sometimes I’d bring a new friend by the house and they’d
already know each other. At that point I knew I’d never get to hang out with
that person again. The friends that made it passed that check point wound up
being very close to my mom. They confided in her. They went to her with their
hopes, dreams and fears. Many of them even called her to hang out when I wasn’t
around. I remember coming home from camp and seeing my best friend pull out of
the yard with her mom as I pulled in the driveway. She’d spent the night with
my mom watching movies and drooling over David Duchovny in X Files.
One of the great things about everyone liking my mom is that
it made it easier for me to stay home. My mom was first diagnosed with cancer
when I was 13 and it reappeared when I was 17 years-old. I worried about her,
more so the second time when I was old enough to better understand what was
happening. We had foster kids staying with us so there were 5 girls, including
myself, to look after. I became the second parent, well, I guess I had been for
a while. It made me a bit anxious to be too far from home. I felt that I needed
to be there in case she needed me. I don’t regret a single missed party either.
Everything that makes me who I am I can attribute to this
woman in one way or another. I have learned more from her than any other person
in the world, even after her death. She didn’t just give birth to me, she made
me.
I learned what it was to be reflective from her which is
perhaps one of my strongest traits. She was always very in tune with how she
was feeling and how we were feeling. There were so many times when she knew how
I was feeling without me even having to utter a word. She could place the
reasons behind my feelings, my actions, when even I couldn’t. I remember
talking to my stepdaughter about my mom once and she told me that I do the same
thing. I didn’t even realize I did it. One of my favorite things about my mom
and I got a little bit of it.
I learned what strength and dignity was watching her. In her
actions she showed me that you could fall apart sometimes and still be strong.
One night when I was a teen I remember hearing my mom crying in her room. I
went in to see if she was ok and she confided in me that she was worried she
wasn’t doing the right things for us, that she wasn’t meeting all our needs
somehow. She was a single mom trying to muddle through on her own. Even though
she wasn’t there when I became a parent that moment has helped me so much as a
parent. I couldn’t think of a better parent than her and even she questioned
herself. Most of the time she was so confident, so sure she was doing the right
thing. Battling cancer I saw her cry not for herself, but for us. The next day
she’d pull herself back together again show her strength. Mom showed me that
strength isn’t always steady, sometimes it’s shaky legs slowly rising to stand
again knowing you won’t be able to stay on your feet for long.
I miss my mom. I miss her every single day. I hear her in my
voice, see her in my children. How I wish my kids had met my momma. How
desperately I want to be a fraction of the mom I had to my children. She would
have loved my husband. I feel so cheated that she never met my family, the
family I made for myself.
Sometimes when I really need her she’ll come to me in a
dream. It’s always in the present. She’s always alive and interacting with my
kids, my husband, me. Whatever is bothering me most we’ll talk about and she’ll
help me. She tells me she’s proud of me even though I don’t feel like there’s
much in me to be proud of. Instead of waking up with an ache in my chest from
missing her, I wake with a sense of peace that nothing else can give me.
I have so much more I want to say but the ache that always
there is getting a little overwhelming now. So I guess I’ll close with the poem
my mom wrote for me. Yeah all of those wonderful things, and she was a poet
too.
I miss you, Momma.
Wendy Jean Grass Burns
May 27, 1957 – September 23, 1998
Amiee
Shades of the woman you will become filter through more
every day
I see reflections in your eyes – your knowledge grows strong
and fast
You amaze me with your quiet courage yet I can feel your
fear in the stillness of the night
So many wishes for you
So many dreams
I believe in you; I have faith not only in your destination
But also in your journey
What can I give you that you do not already possess
What can I take from you that you have not already given
No promises between us –they are not needed
Your whole life is a promise
Dream your dreams, my child
And I will help you love them into reality
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