Today’s is my lovely Mama’s birthday may she RIP.
I’m known to post regularly about Mama: random memories, how many months it’s been since she’s left us (44 months in a few days), pictures that I find around the house, pictures of her table that we update with each holiday, her tradition of giving treat bags to her friends (which, by the way, I’ve passed two holidays because my life got crazy-busy, yes, I feel guilty) and more.
More than once, I’ve had folks tell me that I should let her go, that I should let my mother rest in peace, that I have separation anxiety issues.
Having gone through the trauma of losing my mother, I’ve realized a few things:
- Everyone grieves differently.
- Everyone honors their loved ones in their own way.
- The greatest gift that Margaret gave us, her familia, was sitting us down and telling us how she intended to live out her life, that she loved us and knew that we loved her, and that she knew that we would always be together.
Mama was right. When she was gone, we would have each other to hold on to, we would know that we were loved, and we would know that she was going to be happy in her eternal home.
So the fact that I celebrate my mother constantly does not necessarily mean that I want time to stop, that I want her back, that I want things to stay as they always have, that I’ve not accepted her departure. Wrong. Margaret told us she would be alright, that she was ready to leave, that she would be happy. There is no way that I would want Mama to be sad or suffering here on earth when she was clearly ready to go HOME.
It took me much longer than my siblings to accept this harsh truth when Mama first told us what was what. However, I became so convinced that Mama was right as we took care of her those final weeks: no food, no water, no medicine and she didn’t look weak or emaciated or sad or suffering. When it was time, it was time.
When she was with us, we Torres5 would always marvel about the crazy positive reaction would be on social media to anything we posted about Margaret, she would be a little shy when we’d tell her or read folks’ birthday wishes or comments to this or that post, but then you would see her famous little quiet smile. Mama used to always tell me, “omg, this isn’t a competition!” to which I’d answer, “Of course it isn’t, you always win!”
Happy Birthday Mama/Mother/Mom/Negra/Prieta/Marga!