The Start of My New Life

Life began for me, not the day I was born, but the day my mother passed away. The day where this Robin had to actually leave the nest and learn to fly.

Yes, I was already in college and "grown" before she'd actually died, but I still had a home to return to when I needed a break from my own life. The life that I had lived before her passing was actually her life. I was under her roof, I was taken care of by her income, I was eating her food and wearing clothes bought from her money. That was her life for me, and though I can't speak for her, it was a damn good life to me.

Before my mom's life had even approached her death, she used to always push me to become some sort of writer. She loved reading everything I had ever written; from poetry, to stories, to school assignments and just raps that I would write down jokingly. She was my biggest supporter ever! I knew I was creative, but at the time I didn't think I would ever actually pursue a career using my creativity. Instead, I wanted to be an FBI agent, I wanted to dress in all black with sunglasses and be in shape forever, as if I were Angelina Jolie in some sort of movie. I took up Homeland Security for my major, and to make her happy, I pursued Journalism as a minor. Little did I know, she wouldn't even get a chance to see if I ever even gotten around to utilizing it. Now here I am a whole decade later trying to rekindle the dying flames of my childhood creativity. Only thing is, when I find myself writing these days, it is not from the same place as it used to be, but rather from the painful lessons of my new life.

I used to be able to lie in my room for hours writing in my notebooks and journals. There was nothing more soothing than a fresh sheet of paper and a sharp pencil. Something so relaxing about feeling of the pencil gliding across each line as the words would just pour from my soul. To make it even better, my handwriting was flawless. If ever I'd made a mistake that the eraser could not fix, I wouldn't mind starting all the way over just to reach the level of perfection that I desired. I didn't have a laptop back then, but even if I had, I would have still preferred the pencil and paper. I had grown a blister on my ring finger from the way I would hold the pencil. It would hurt from time to time, but it never slowed me down once my creative juices were flowing. I could fill up ten notebook pages front and back with ease, and I didn't know how much of a gift that was until I had lost it.

My mom kept a file cabinet full of accomplishments by my siblings and I, but after she passed, everything was disbursed so quickly that I didn't even get a chance to go through any of her things to see what I wanted. I was back and forth to college during the processing of her death, but I remember coming home and the house was empty. I would see my family members wearing some of her possessions that I hadn't even gotten the chance to look through, my siblings had salvaged the good furniture that remained. All I had was a basket, and in that basket was the start of a care package that she was in the process of putting together to send to me in school. I hold on to the empty box from one of the items that was in the basket til this day.

I honestly think that everything happened so fast, that I didn't get to mourn properly. It was near the end of the school year and I was failing classes left and right. I was missing huge track meets to travel back and forth to my hometown. I was picking up the habit of smoking to cope with everything that I was going through, and I was slowly, but surely changing right before my own eyes. You would think that after her passing, my heart would be ready to spill onto paper like a can of paint. But oddly, I had stopped writing altogether. I was so used to writing about my happy childhood life, that I didn't know how to turn my pain into purpose. I was lost for words until my words became lost in life. My new life.

My mom died in May of 2013, and I had just turned 19. Instead of going home that summer to mourn with my family, I spent the summer on campus trying to make up for the classes I had failed. Looking back, this probably wasn't the best choice because I was forced into adulthood so quickly that I had no time to sit down and reflect on what I had just lost. This was the greatest loss of a woman's life during the transition into adulthood, and I was just trying to manage. I had no idea that I would need my mother so much in the years to follow.

Of course, being raised in the church, I was taught that she was in a better place and that she's no longer suffering, and that she would be with me in spirit. But the human in me couldn't help but to question God on all of those things. Like why would he take her right when I needed her most? Why would he allow her to suffer for a month in a coma while we watched and hoped, just to snatch her away anyway? Why would I be okay with having her in spirit if I could've had her in person had I been there when she needed me? My mom had 7 of us, so why wasn't at least one of us there that morning to take her to the hospital? What was the reason that this was supposed to happen? It was the most confusing time of my life, and I was in college going through it alone. I had a boyfriend at the time, but he couldn't begin to imagine what I had just lost.

Since then, I have been struck by life from every direction. I've had to figure out how to fix and build my credit, after working through school to pay off debt collectors. I've had to learn how to file my taxes, which I still don't fully understand to this day. I've graduated twice and have pursued and tried multiple careers and experienced multiple layoffs. I've had to go through 2 pregnancies and depression and figuring out motherhood without the hood of having my own mother. I've had to deal with planning a wedding without dress shopping with my mom there to give her stamp of approval. My mom never even got the chance to meet my husband, who she would have absolutely loved. I've gone through a decade of my life figuring out everything that a woman needs her mom for, all by myself. Yes, I have sisters and aunts and grandmas. Hell, I even have a mother in law at this point, but there are some things that only mom can guide you through in the way that you need to be guided, and that means without judgement.

 I could go on for days about what it was like having my mom while growing up, but I could go on even longer about what life has been like without her. These last few months, her words have been playing in my head telling me to write, and my life without her has given me much to write about. Motherhood especially, because I often find myself sounding like her when I talk to my own child. I laugh like her, I cuss like her, I glow like her, and anyone who knew her will know what I mean by that. I can truly say that I do believe that she might actually still be with me, even after all these years of me being lost. She is now ready to live again with me in my life.