TRIBUTE TO MOM

Funerals are somber occasions, but a rite of passage in which we show our respect and recount the virtues of family and loved ones. Death causes much retrospection, not only toward the life of the person who has passed, but often towards oneself. In recounting someone’s life upon their passing we (mostly) speak glowingly of their life, and I often wonder how many of these words the person was blessed to have heard during their lifetime.

I often contemplate death, both my own and those close to me. It’s not that I am macabre, but I have experienced so much of it in my lifetime, it is a subject that has not allowed itself to escape my thoughts. That said, it no longer has a dominant place in my psyche or vernacular. I simply accept its inevitability, and prepare as much as any circumstance allows.

That said, I absolutely embrace life. I live with a cautiously, studied, reckless abandon. Oxymoronic I know, but think of it this way. I look before I leap. I study the risk versus reward, but more times than not I make the decision to leap. I have come a long way and experienced and seen a lot, with so much more I plan and look forward to. I have not been cheated during this lifetime, yet I still retain an almost youthful exuberance in looking forward to all still to come.

Part of this journey, has helped me to realize the need for better communicative skills, and by better I mean develop some to begin with. Unless I was REALLY comfortable around someone I used to be laconic to the point that you thought I was being fined per word use.

I have worked on my communication skills, working my way up to a B-, with much room for improvement. My most deficient area is clearly in the espousing feelings category. I am old school. Not bragging about it, more just a statement. I thought men were the strong and silent type, and it probably didn’t help that I was raised by one of the toughest people I know.

My mom’s family was one of the only Latin families in our Brownsville projects at that time. My grandmother was petite to say the least and often victimized. Growing up in that environment, my mother was not having it. The experience helped turn her into the strong Black woman she is today.

She had two boys at a relatively young age, and growing up in the hood, there was little time for coddling and placating. She was tough because she had to be and our wild assess kept her on her toes unnecessarily. There was never a doubt growing up how much love our mother had for us, even if it was not reflected in words. I received one hundred times the ass whippings as I did hugs, and never recall being the recipient of esteem building praise.

In this soft society we live in today, she would probably still be serving a sentence for her infliction of corporal punishment. I admire this women and I do not tell her enough. I get it honestly, the inability to express feelings and knowing the dysfunction that enveloped her mother I am astonished she is not a complete emotional cripple.

I admire this woman. She raised three boys, all who have attended college. None of us have been incarcerated (beyond a night for traffic infractions) and none of us have children outside of committed relationships. This is only noteworthy because this was not the norm growing up…for kids in our neighborhood. She was able to raise three boys in a perilous backdrop and helped break a cycle that could have easily been perpetuated.

Of course there are other mothers and fathers, who have done the same, and I applaud them as well, but my tribute today is for my mother…I went almost two years in my early twenties in which I can recall never hugging or kissing my mother. I was at the height of my #fake tough guy, #wish a N**** would, #angry Black man stage. Strangely, the interactions appeared perfectly normal at the time.

Fast forward to today. My mother and I still do not have the most affectionate relationship. She is still a phenomenal pain in my ass, that has to be put on occasional timeouts. She has still has never told me she is proud of me, despite an Ivy League education, law school, passing the bar, writing a book and a few other achievements, and she has never failed to remind me of the many less than successful ventures my serial entrepreneurship has churned out. That said, there is no one who I feel has my back or loves me more.

She has grown and does verbalize love. Her grandkids soften her up, and her kids receive the rewards of her growth. She cooks for me incessantly when I visit her or she comes to visit me. I don’t penalize her for her way. Her way worked for us. She helped make me the man I am today and every ounce of generosity, compassion and awareness I possess are traits that I learned directly from her.

So I am even more committed to let her know these things. Let her know how I feel about her while she is alive. I am living proof that is never to late to learn and grow and I am just thankful that I still have time on my side to let those that have affected me positively of their influence in my life.

#thanksmom

#growth

#lovedones