April Showers (UPDATED)

Full disclaimer: The four paragraphs below are from 4-3-2018 about my mother. She sacrificed her life to give me life. She almost died and was in a coma for 5 days after my birth. Today after research, reflection and revelation I know her journey was so I could expand on her life.

Greetings my faithful blog readers! I have not posted in a few weeks because I struggle with my emotions this time of year. Today is Mommie’s birthday! Although she’s been gone since 1986 I miss her everyday. The devastation I felt losing her at the age of 18 was one of the most painful experiences in my life. It literally felt like I was given a new asshole without pain medication.

When she died I would spend each holiday by her graveside. While her siblings celebrated spending time with their children, I stayed away. My branch had been broken on the family tree and her absence was unbearable. It has been difficult growing into a woman without her guidance, knowledge, strength, encouragement, support and agape love.

I missed her when I married X-hub, had my children and graduated from college. A mother’s love is unchanging, committed, strong, long lasting and needed. I have been blessed over the years with women champions to stand in a motherly role in my life. I count each of them in my Gratitude List daily. These women helped me stop celebrating Mommie at her grave. Instead I changed the narrative (as a lifelong friend would say) then decided in her name I would bless someone in life, on her birthday.

Over twenty five years this has helped THEEDUCATEDTROPHYWIFE turn her tears into April Showers. Now that I just have me to care for, I celebrate Mommie’s birthday by doing something special for me. Grief can put you in a prison if you let it. Remember you have the key to escape inside you. How will you free yourself?

Updated 6-13-2023

Man, I miss my mother… My heart aches daily. On 6-12-1986, it was raining unlike any other June day. The torrential rain was beyond April Showers that Mommy would walk barefoot in. When she was young the streets were cleaner, void of broken glass, trash, dog shit and filth. Today all that was being washed from the rooftops to the street gutters and beneath my Lotto sneakers. I remember the urgency in my pace so I could get out of the storm headed to my grandmother’s apartment.

When I walked in my ageless grandmother was on the phone and her living room was dark without the sun that normally shone through my favorite windows facing the garden. I heard my grandmother say “my Mickey is here now” when she turned to me her eyes were flooded like Hanson Street where the garden resided. She stood up, held my hands then told me my mother died. I let out a gut wrenching scream and collapsed to the floor. The sound of my oldest cousin walling in my grandmother’s bed just ripped through my heart and soul. I was so inconsolable Mom Mom called Daddy to come take me to his house.

I found out she died from a drug overdose of heroin, I was ashamed. The stigma that can accompany such a death was viewed by society as a scar on the family values. There wasn’t any respect, care, understanding, compassion nor love for addicts especially not for my culture. There was no narcan however there was plenty of bias, judgment and disgust from uppie ass folk that still lingers today.

After 37 years of pain from losing Mommy I’ve educated myself on how she was suffering from PTSD. When I think about the conversations we’d have because she was very transparent with me to a fault, I feel blessed to have had her. Her words came rushing back to me when I asked her why she couldn’t be like other mothers in the neighborhood. The hurt in her eyes I understand now. She told me the same people I want her to be like were not any better than her. She was transparent with her faults, short comings and brazen boldness.

She tried several times to stop using heroin without success and the neighborhood mothers didn’t live authentically because they were addicts as well. Even their children were addicted but looked down at my mother. When I was living in West Park Projects some hateful kids called my mother a drug addict to my face. This made me so angry and added to more shame. I’m so over that feeling today because the same people you see going up if you’re blessed you will see them coming down as a lesson in life. Not that you want that to happen, at least I didn’t.

Although she was an addict compared to other neighbors she was a better mother than most. Her love for me is what has created THEEDUCATEDTROPHYWIFE platform. Even in her addiction she instilled in me that I’m a leader not a follower, I can be who, what and where I want to be as well as how to nurture my children. It’s because of her I love the library, have lived in several states, can move with good intentions and have adjusted my self serving attitude. She showered me with all the love she received from her mother even after almost dying birthing me.

Today I can take solace in knowing why she became notorious, fearless, revolutionary and was the partner in crime of Daddy for many years. They had their reasons for bucking the United States justice system based on their personal experiences as Black Youth in the 60’s. Both she and Daddy did their very best to keep me from the grips of the Philly streets, they’d run with me in tow. When I wanted to attend high school with the same kids that teased me about her or their mothers turned their nose’s up at her, she gave me a firm no.

I wasn’t allowed to be with kids who my parents or families didn’t know. She sent me out the neighborhood to schools that required several bus connections and I was given a time frame to be home. We had engaging conversations where my voice was heard. After her death I lost that freedom as “others” did not understand my upbringing. I can still hear her voice, she still lives when I say her name and when it rains I know I’m covered by Mommy’s April Showers. A’she…