My Mama

A moment ago, I was walking down the stairs, going to the kitchen to get the water bottle that I put in the freezer earlier tonight. On the way down, I almost tripped over my mother, who was sitting on the stairs, slowly scooting her way down, one step at a time. I scared her; And she certainly scared me. I'm so glad that I wasn't running down the stairs, like I normally do. Otherwise, I would have certainly either flipped over her and went head down to the ceramic tile, or I would have pushed her down the stairs. I shutter at the thought of both possibilities.

As I stood on the steps behind her, waiting for her to gain her composure, my heart bled with compassion for the woman I know as my mother. She scooted to the side of the stair that she was sitting on so that I could pass her. I slowly walked down the rest of the stairs, feeling my leg brush against her feeble body.

My heart begin to weep as I was rushed to the realization of how sick my mother is. I felt sad that the vibrant woman that I once knew is now sick, weak, sometimes confused, sad, frustrated, and dependent on a family that doesn't quickly rush to care for her. I was suddenly pissed that my mother was being forced to live a life with such great deficits. It feels so damn unfair!

My mama doesn't deserve this. She's only done the right thing over the years. She's served her community by teaching in one of the most challenging parts of Houston for 25 years. She's been a good mother, never side stepping her responsibility to provide for, protect, guide, and support her four daughters. She's been a good sister to the sisters who now criticize her for not doing enough, even though Mama is so sick. She's been a good friend to all the damn people who pretend like she's already dead. She was a good wife to the man that she called husband for nearly 15 years. She was a good church member to the various churches that she invested her time, talent, and money into.

This is why I don't understand why this had to be. Why does my mother have to suffer so much? Why does she have to be so sick?

I wish there was something I could do to ensure that Mama experienced some happiness. The grandkids do bring some happiness to her. But I feel that she needs something else to make her smile.

Lord, I'm begging you to allow my books and plays to be a success before my mother passes to come rest with You. I want to be able to take her on trips, to nice restaurants, buy her nice clothes, and keep her hair done. And the only way I can do that is with some money. Lord, please help a sistah out.

To my mother: Mama, I'm so sorry that this has happened to you. But I know it's going to be alright. Stay strong, and stay determined. It's not over yet.
A stroke is not the end. and disability is not death. So, as long as you are alive, let's hope for more recovery, good times, and more opportunities to enjoy life.
I love you so much!
Your oldest daughter,
Ann