From a Son to My Mother.

Over 50% of African American children are being raised by single mothers.  That’s more than half.  Me, I was on the other half, but I lived like the opposite half.  As a child, I had two adults living in my home, but I only had one parent.  I had my mother.  When I was sick, I knew that I could count on my mother.  When I was lonely, I knew that I could go to my mother.  When I had questions, my mother had answers.  When I was unsure, insecure, afraid, or excited, I knew that I had my mother.  My mother was my reason and my answer.  My mother was the polar opposite of my father.  My mother was love, understanding, patience, knowledge, forgiveness, and most importantly, belief. I must admit that at times, when my mother tried to teach me how to be a man, I felt as though she wasn’t qualified.  However, I now know that she was more than qualified because she infused me with the most important gift of all time; love.  For example, when I was a kid, New Balance sneakers were the thing.  I just had to have the high top, leather New Balance sneakers.  Back then, those sneakers were over 100.00.  My mother never wanted me to go without, so she told me that she was going to buy those sneakers for me.  I was so excited.  When her payday came, I saw something that I wasn’t prepared for.  When my mother came home from work, she moved slowly because she was tired.  When she took her shoes off, her feet would stink because she stood on them all day.  She never complained.  She simply kissed me when she came home, took a shower, and asked me if I was ready to go and get those sneakers.  She even had the audacity to smile at me before taking a shower.  On this particular day, I could see the paycheck that she had yet to cash.  The amount; 157.34.  157.34.  To this day, that number still resonates with me.  My mother was prepared to spend the majority of her paycheck on making me feel like I was cool.  To me, that wasn’t cool.  When my mother got out of the shower, I told her that I no longer wanted the sneakers because everyone had them.  I told her that I wanted to be different.  She smiled at me and said, “if you want them, you know that I will get them for you.”  I refused and she didn’t.  On that day, my mother and I walked to a restaurant and got something to eat.  The experience was far greater than the purchase of those sneakers could have ever been.  It seems that motherhood is mandatory while fatherhood is optional.  My mother was my everything.  She made me feel as though I was hers.  Mama, I loved you before I even knew what it was.  I never doubted you, and I never even conceived that you wouldn’t be there.  To this day, I approach food from a different perspective because you aren’t cooking it.  Thank you for all of the days that you put cardboard in your shoes to conceal the holes that existed there because you never wanted me to experience that.  Thank you for happily accepting last while putting me first.  Thank you for letting me have seconds when it appeared that you didn’t have firsts.  Thank you for coming to see me sing in the school play.  Thank you for bandaging my wounds.  Thank you for telling me that I was somebody when I felt like nobody.  Thank you for rubbing my head while I was rubbing my tears as a result of all of the questions that I had about the “why” of it all.  Thank you.  Mama, there is not a moment that passes throughout the course of my day that I don’t miss you.  I miss your smile.  I miss the way you once slid your feet on the plastic tracks in our living room that led to the front door.  I miss the sound of your voice on the opposite end of my phone.  I miss you missing me.  You see, you were always my why.  I was able to do some of the things that I did because I wanted you to be proud of me.  Your pride in me seemed to transcend my pride in myself.  I know that heaven is a better place because you’re there.  I know that God loves your bread.  I know that you are probably in the kitchen right now because there is always someone in need of a good meal that serves as a predecessor to a “real conversation.”  Mama, you lived your life as though you only existed for me.  I want to say thank you.  You taught me the meaning of life.  We never had much, but we always had enough.  I hope that you’re happy.  I want to let you know that I am growing.  I am trying to continue the legacy that you established a long time ago.  I know that I am sometimes entertaining angels, so I try and treat everyone as though they are.  Thank you for teaching me how to love.  Thank you for teaching me how to forgive.  You were the best mother in the world.  You were my world.  You still are.  Until we see each other again, I promise to be the best version of myself that I can possibly be.  I miss you so much.  Mama, you are the reason I am.  Thank you.  I love you.  Patrick.

As always, this week, do something for someone else for no other reason than to make their day better.  Also, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us.

2 thoughts on “From a Son to My Mother.

  1. Annmarie Thompson September 5, 2018 / 8:16 pm

    Thank you for allowing your readers to have a glimpse of what a wonderful woman your mother was and the influence she had in instilling your core values of the man you are today. She sounded like she was an extraordinary woman.


    • Hueman Movement September 5, 2018 / 8:19 pm

      Annmarie, my mother was my world. Your support really means a lot to me. Honestly, it fuels me to keep pushing. I write because I believe that I’m not the only one that feels this way. Perhaps, the world can change if we begin a conversation. Thanks for your continued support. Patrick


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