When Life Happens (Part One) | A Tribute to My Mother

“To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.
Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.” —Maya Angelou

Exactly, Ms. Angelou. How can I adequately describe my mother’s love? It’s not possible. But, I will attempt to honor her with my inadequate words.

Hey, y’all. It’s Jamie. Eric and I usually write our blogs together, but it seemed appropriate that I take this one solo. I don’t know exactly what to say, but I know that I have a lot to say. I’ve split it up into three parts — you’re reading part one now— because there’s just so much that I feel like I should share with you guys about my sweet momma and this storm we’re going through. Let me warn you, friends, that this will be a raw, out-of-the-norm blog post, but it all needs to be said.

The elephant in the room is this – I lost my momma on Saturday, April 25th. I held her as she took her last breath, and I watched as my strong, super hero (in my eyes!) daddy cried like a baby as he told his partner of 39 years (April 26 was their 26th wedding anniversary) that he would miss her, but it was okay to go to heaven now. In the days before her death, she squeezed my hands when I spoke in her ear about how I hoped to raise my future baby how she raised me, and she did this sweet tickle thing she does to me and kissed me right on the mouth many times. I’ll remember those moments forever. She puckered for a kiss from my dad just hours before she passed, and when the time was close, I told mom to go see what Jesus looks like, and within 60 seconds, she did.

I’m an only child and have been extremely close to my parents all my life. With the exception of a couple of bratty teenage years, they were my best friends. Mom has been fighting Ovarian Cancer for about two years now – diagnosed in July of 2013. Her diagnosis was devastating. I’ve worried about and dreaded the death of my parents since I learned what death was. I would avoid stepping on cracks because I really thought in the back of my mind that my momma may actually be hurt by it, and I was convinced that if I didn’t pray for my parents before I went to sleep, they would probably die. I know that sounds insane, and it definitely is, but I say all that to say this: My mother wasn’t a burden or a casual relationship. She was a treasure and a true friend and my rock. I’ve cherished every moment I’ve had with her for the last 2 years, but it still wasn’t enough. This is the worst pain I’ve felt in my life. While I am aware that that is quite the dramatic statement, it is true. Living in a world without Kelly Brooks hurts BAD. You get it.

But, enough about me and my weaknesses. I have a great family and friends, a phenomenal husband and a God who is much bigger than my grief. Let’s now talk about her, and her incredibly beautiful soul.

Mom was strong. When her doctor told her to go home and get comfortable because there was nothing else he could do for her, she consoled him by telling him that he shouldn’t feel bad because he did his best. That’s just like her. Selfless.

She was hardworking. She taught me that nothing was going to just come to me. I had to work for it if I wanted it. I was NOT better than anyone else, she let me know that for certain, but I could have all the opportunities that others had if I worked reeeally hard. She regularly prayed for me, my safety and my convictions. She wasn’t afraid to tell me when she thought I was wrong, but when I was stubborn, she’d let me make my own mistakes and be there to wipe away my tears of regret.

She was my playmate. She loved games and she loved laughing. She had this innocence to her that I really admired – a childlike purity that I adored. She was usually the last one to get the jokes, but only because her mind wasn’t in the gutter like the rest of us. She always saw the good in everyone, no matter how many times they let had let her down already.

She couldn’t whisper at all, and she’d embarrass me so bad when she’d whisper to me in public about cute boys or people’s strange hairstyles. She was my cheerleader. In fact, she cried when I didn’t make cheerleader in the 7th grade. She attended every game, awards ceremony, graduation, pageant, etc. She’d often call “just to hear my voice,” and I sure do miss hers.

Until we meet again, sweet momma.