Celebrating My Mother's 45th Birthday

I'm 22 years old. My mother would have been 45 years old, tomorrow. It's been over six years since I've seen my mother, since I've talked to my mother, since I've felt her arms around me. I can't remember her voice. I can't hear her laugh anymore. Did she laugh obnoxiously loud or was she the silent laugh with her hands kind? I have no idea if her eyes were completely brown or if they had a hint of green like mine do.  Was she just as bad of a singer as me? I couldn't tell ya.

Tomorrow's her birthday, I want to celebrate her but how am I supposed to do that when I can't remember anything about her? Why didn't I pay more attention to these things when she was alive? Why didn't I celebrate her then? I can't even tell you if I got her a gift for her last birthday. I have no idea if I saw her. I have no idea if I even wished her a happy birthday. But now that she isn't here with me, every year, there's a count down starting about a week or two before her birthday. Every year I plan exactly what I'm going to do - eat Reese's Cups and drink Mountain Dew because how much she loved them is something I do remember.

I don't know what kind of person can forget so much about someone who would call just about everyday to tell me she's so proud of me and how much she loves me. I know my brother and I were her world, we were her everything. And even though she was my world too, she was my rock, my strength, my supporter, my everything, I don't think I ever really took the time to let her know, to let her know just how much she means to me. That even though she made so many mistakes, her mistakes led me to my passion to help people who were dealt shitty cards in life. That if it weren't for her believing in me, I never would have believed in myself. From such a young age, she started a fire in my heart, a fire that burns with passion and with empathy to see every person's self worth, no matter their path in life.

When I was younger, about 10 years old, I remember telling my friends I love every person in the world and my friends would say "Even murderers? and people who rape other people?" and I would so innocently reply, "Yes." and my friends thought I was seriously messed up in the head. But it's because of my mother I felt such an innocent love for these people. I would tell my friends "Every person deserves love." And I remember this so clearly because my friends response was so opposite of what I was feeling and I couldn't explain it to them even though I so badly wanted to. My mom taught me that every person makes mistakes and the people we love so dearly may hurt us because of their mistakes but their mistakes say nothing about how much that person loves us and cares for us. And in my mind as a 10 year old, that meant to me, that just because someone harms others that doesn't mean that person should not be loved. My mom model this for me, showed me it really is possible to love those that harm us because despite those that had caused harm to her, including the man who shot her, she continued to love them and show them grace.

Everyday I work with parents who make mistakes that in turn affect their children and many people wonder "How could someone who loves their children so much do that to them?!" and I work with children everyday who are living in environments that don't have all the resources to allow them to succeed and reach their full potential. But I believe the reason why I can work with these family in such an optimistic way is because of the fire my mom ignited inside of me to see strength's in even the weakest people, in the families where you could easily justify giving up on them. Some  may call me naive but I call myself a true believer.

Imagine if people gave up on my mom, imagine if people gave up on me and my brother, but they didn't. And while my mother did ultimately lose her battle, she was able to be a large part of my life for 16 years. My brother is an Airman and I'm a social worker. There is light in even the darkest of places. You just have to be willing to search for it and once you've found it, don't stop until it's shining brighter than the black of the darkness.

I think where this post has lead me, without even me realizing it, is I may not remember the tiny details about my mom like her voice, her laugh but there's something that is just as important about her that I do remember. I remember the lessons she taught me. And the amount of love she was constantly pouring over me. I'll never forget the way she made me feel. Even in her darkest times, her laugh and smile would remind me that everything is okay, that she is okay, that I'm going to be okay. Her heart was so full of love and she was so good to the core that her voice and essence would always make me feel so safe. She would remind me to laugh at every situation because life's too short to be taken seriously.

Everyone makes mistakes, some big, some small, some that hurt those around you. But your mistakes don't define who you are. My mother is not defined by her meth addiction. My mother is defined by the amount of love she gave to those around her, by her strength to keep her own light inside of her shining, by the life lessons she taught to those around her, including her children, without even recognizing she was doing it, her selfless-ness, her goofy, up beat personality that reminded me life is still good no matter the amount of shit that's been dumped on you.

And most importantly, I believe my mother is defined by her children. And this is because, I feel my life, my choices, my career path show that my mother's life lessons are carried on through me. Because even though I don't remember what her singing sounds like, the fire she started in my heart, continues to burn and continues to grow.

So tomorrow when I celebrate my mother's birthday, I'll be enjoying a Reece's cup, a mountain dew but everyday I hope to celebrate her by spreading the amount of love she spread to me and those around her. That love is something that I will never forget.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.