I was a young girl aged 12, when the one person whom I adored
and admired was removed from my life. During that time, I was
emotionally scarred and abandoned. I didn’t know it then, but
the outline for my life’s future was being created during those
moments that surrounded her death.
Zenobia was a phenomenal woman, raising two girls in an amazing
manner. She was the only person that loved my sister and I to
the BONE!! She loved us unconditionally.
U-N-C-O-N-D-I-T-I-O-N-A-L-L-Y! A somewhat lengthy word, carrying
a penetrating weight. I learned just how much weight that word
carried years later when I had my own children. I ended up
making all of those sacrifices that Zenobia made, loving my
seeds to the bone, as I was subconsciously taught to do while
growing up on Chicago’s south side.
Life is supposed to be the best teacher. Funny, how the lessons
that are learned from life aren’t readily understood until years
later, isn’t it? Long after the teacher has stopped teaching, or
has since passed on. We somehow allow our mental selves to rest
in a retrospect mode. The switch to the light miraculously turns
itself on. This is when we mentally go back to the time when the
mentor was telling us “not” to do this or “to do” that. We never
paid attention to what was being said at the time, never
understood, or so we thought. But our subconscious self did. We
didn’t want to listen did we? Wanted to defy the teacher. Didn’t
want to obey the given command. The answer is all too clear now
……isn’t it? Crystalline to say the least.
Unbeknownst to me during her lengthy battle with cancer, her
inevitable demise would somehow create a pathway for me to
become aware of my inner self and my environment. So aware to
this day, as I sit and put pen to paper, I am continually
conscious of my progressions and regressions on a daily or
monthly or even a yearly basis. I am aware if I am ambitious
enough to “get that job” or being responsible enough to set a
concrete example for my children to follow, or if I am making
the right decision at all times when the future of my children
were concerned. Oftentimes, we are given no second chances.
As ironic as it was, during my times of emotional depravation,
when I felt my body could no longer persevere, when I toyed with
the idea of suicide versus life, when I literally had no one
around me that cared if I lived or died, or when my children and
I had to succumb to living in a shelter because my job downsized
and I had no family around me to offer housing. During those
times, I allowed myself to take that mental journey back in
order to regain my strength and move onward. Back to the day, to
the moment, when Zenobia was teaching a particular lesson to me.
By recapturing these lessons, whatever the lesson may have been
that I needed at the time, I gained the will, the courage, the
strength to continue my life journey. The Life Lessons of
Zenobia have been sustaining for me yesterday, today and will
continue for the tomorrows that I have left.
With certainty, I am now able to recall and duplicate these
lessons to the point of being able to recite the language that
she used, verbatim when I am rearing my children. I now repeat
the exact words to my son and daughter when I am providing
direction to them or answering a very difficult question
pertaining to life, as they know it in their young years.
Today, when I look into the face of my 20-year old son, and my
19-year old daughter, I am waiting with eager anticipation to
see what they will do with the Life Lessons that I have
instilled in them. However, unconscious to them as it was
unconscious to me when the lessons were being taught to me.
These are the tools that were passed down to me by my phenomenal
mentor, Zenobia.
I used to think for years afterwards; that my mother’s death was
pointless. I was angry with her for passing and thrusting me
into to a world totally opposite from the nurturing, warm,
loving, habitant that I was accustomed to when she was alive.
I’ve learned that Zenobia’s death at the tender age of 35 was
not pointless, not at all. Had she not left me when she did, I
would not be the courageously, independent woman that I am
today. Her passing, as illogical as it may sound to some,
somehow shaped, molded, and prepared me to live my life and
prosper.
Through her death, I’ve learned however sad, the death of a
loved one is also a very necessary action. When we allow
ourselves to mourn, we are able to accept to a certain extent,
the passing of our loved one. To the extent, that one CAN accept
it. But one day, after you have accepted the death, accepted the
reality of it all. You too, will take that mental journey back.
Zenobia was my mother. You will one day remember your Mother as
I am remembering mine, which is quite often. I now know that her
passing is not a totality for me. She lives on through and
inside of me. She lives on each time I recall or share a funny
story with my children about their grandmother. She lives on
when I am in my daughter’s room and happen to glance at the
picture frame encircled with rose petals that houses a photo of
my mother that my daughter keeps on her dresser each day. She
lives on each time, I make a sweet potato pie or stuffing from
scratch the way my mother used to make.
My remembrance of my mother living, teaching, and sharing those
Life Lessons will and forever be something that no on can ever
remove from my heart.I love you mommy, you were a phenomenal
woman!!…I should know because now I am one too. Thank you for
your Lessons of Life! I Love you.
This story can also be read at
www.onewriterwriting.blogspot.com
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