Today, June 10, 2015, is my Mother's birthday. She would have been 87 years old. It is difficult to imagine her as an elderly woman, because she died at 48 years old. Beautiful and full of life, her laughter tinkled through our house. Her smile was brilliant always inviting someone in to her space She had the special anointing of nurturing and caring for others. She was my Mama, but she was also Mother to so many others. She was my brother's Mama and we shared a loving rivalry for her affection. We know she loved each of us fiercely. She respected our uniqueness. Joyce would never be Melvin and Melvin would never be Joyce: but our lives intertwined, united by that genetic string which was Mama and Daddy.
She made our life exciting. She was an explorer and a teacher. She made sure that we were exposed to everything she was not, due to segregation. When integration occurred, she fearlessly took us through doors that blacks had not been permitted to enter. She didn't care if we were the only chocolate faces at the Book Fair, Nutcracker Suite Symphony at Christmas, or the White House Easter Egg Roll.
I now realize she had a courage and strength that we were not aware of. She protected us from the stigma of racism, that had surely been a part of her life. My parents gave us a good life and God gave us good parents. My Mother was classy and well dressed, she was a Diva. She was a pristine example of the 1950 and 1960 African-American woman. We were her world and she was our Sun. We orbited around the light and love she so generously showed us and others.
There is so much I can say about her, I miss her. When she died, something was closed up in a little box..a piece of my heart was buried with her. I continue to live, but her presence is missed in life's celebrations and traditions. What I miss the most is that I BELONGED TO HER. She celebrated me, my achievements, my birthdays. She knew my nuances, she read me like a book. She loved me. I knew she would look for me if I was missing. Even as an adult, she didn't sleep until I came through the door. Sometimes she trounced me for my selfishness...the things we put Mothers through until we become one. She was my Mama, irreplaceable, missed, and celebrated.
Happy Birthday Odessa! Surely you were dispatched from heaven to walk us part of the way. Oh how I wished you could have been here for the graduations and births. I am glad you missed the pains of my failures and foolishness. Your prayers were answered and I serve HIM now!
I hope Jesus sees fit to give you a party today, and if per chance the angels bring you a huge bouquet of red roses, your favorite, know that they are from me. I read that heaven is a glorious place. I am sure the scenery has been made a little more glamorous because you are there!
Always, your daughter Joyce
