Special Mother’s Day Edition
May 2012 Vol. 1 No. 3
A Big Welcome to Our New Columnist and Feature Writer Mr. Johnny Hair
Emily Marie Toler Sitting here on my bed beside my oldest daughter as we listen to “My Funny Valentine” by Frank Sinatra, I can’t help but think, this is what Mother’s Day is all about. Spending time with those you love, knowing the relationship is strong enough to survive anything, and just hanging out. For me, it isn’t about flowers, candy, or gifts, but about enjoying the time together. Some mothers may expect gifts and/or flowers, but most of us just want to know we are loved and if our child really goes the extra mile, we want to know we are appreciated. That’s it. Something as simple as my daughter climbing on the bed with me, working on articles side by side means more to me than a diamond bracelet.
Eric Blaine Toler
This edition is a special tribute to our mothers. They may be biological mothers, grandmothers, or mother figures. How they are our mothers does not matter. What matters is how they have cared for us, taught us, and loved us. Some of you have lost your mother. I cannot imagine the pain and raw emotions that emerge on Mother’s Day but my heart is with you. I lost my grandmother a little over a year ago and know the pain that has brought into my life. I can’t imagine if it was my own mother! On Mother’s Day, take time to be sad and grief, but also take time to remember the good times. Some of you reading this are young mothers or mothers to be. I am sure that is a hard road to walk, but have faith you are strong enough to handle it. Your child will always be a true blessing and you will know the true epitome of unconditional, forever love. This has been a fun edition to work on. I had the great opportunity to remember my grandmothers, my mother, and my life as a mother on a level I seldom take time to do; however, because I have lost both grandmothers, it’s also been a sad experience. I hope I honored the mothers in my life with the gift of appreciation. Be sure and take time to hug your mothers, grandmothers, aunts, mother figures, and all women in your life not just on Mother’s Day but every day. They are truly a gift beyond all others. Happy Mother’s Day! ~Tina Jessica Faithe Toler
These four precious pictures are my Children when they were little.
Jacob Ward Harding Toler
The Greatest Woman I Ever Knew By Johnny Hair
Earline Hair
Lillie Mae Wright
In this life, the greatest gift we could ever receive is a mother. However, in order to have a great mother, she had to be brought into this world by someone else. You guessed it, your grandmother. So this is where this story began. As I pondered this question, there was no deliberation required for very long, because the greatest woman I ever knew was Lillie Mae Wright. Since my birth in 1965, the two women who were the center of my world were my mother, Earline, and my grandmother, Lillie Mae. Being raised in a religious family, I grew up with the knowledge of honoring thy father and thy mother. But that was so the case, which would include my grandmother. As far back as I can remember, she was the most loving, God-fearing woman I ever knew. Not only did she love her family and friends, but her greatest love was the Lord. Lillie Mae, never met a stranger and living in her small town of Roseboro, North Carolina, everyone knew her. All her life she worked for the local cotton mill for hours on end and after rearing nine children, she knew how much hard work would pay off in the end. She knew she would never be rich with money, but she had more than anything that money could buy, and that was the love of a family. I would always look up to her and was amazed at how happy she always was, regardless of her situation. From the age of 7, I would always tell her, “One day when I get older, I am going to build you a brick house.” She would always smile and say that she loved me for such a thought and if I never did achieve that goal, just the thought was all that she needed to hear. When she was born, she was born with a special gift. At birth, her face was covered with what doctors deemed as a veil over her face. They say that anyone who is born with a veil, you have the gift of sight. She always seemed to know when things were going to happen. While visiting her as a child, I was standing in front of her fireplace and there was a fire burning, as she noticed me just staring at it, or so it seemed. She noticed that I was starting to sway and as she got up, I began to fall forward and she caught me, as I was beginning to have a seizure. As a mother of 9 children and several grandchildren, you become very observant of all your surroundings. There was also another time that we were visiting and my mother decided it was time to head back to Wilmington. My grandmother told my mom that she had a bad feeling and for us not to leave just yet. We waited around for about 20 minutes and she said that she felt that it was ok now. After we left, we came up on an accident and we found out that it happened about 20 minutes before we got there. Was this a just a coincidence or a premonition? I believe it was the latter because had we left on time, we would have been in the accident. Lillie Mae Wright was not only just a loving mother, grandmother and great grandmother; she loved the Lord as well as the church. She was the organ and piano player and even later in life, she formed a singing group with her daughters called “The True Gospel Singers.”
~Continued~
The True Gospel Singers
They would travel from place to place, singing in churches and prisons, as well as other functions around the state. She was always happy as long as she had her family with her. Lillie Mae gave birth to eleven children, of which her first and last children passed away shortly after birth and in between. There were nine others. Of her nine children, five of which were boys, and four were girls. Throughout the years, she would have 34 grandchildren and over 40 great grandchildren. In addition to her loving gospel music and talking about the Lord, she loved to go fishing. She and her second husband, Richard Wright, would travel to Carolina Beach and Kure Beach and would salt water fish from her two favorite piers, Northern Extension and Center Pier. She enjoyed eating seafood of all kinds. After she retired from the Cotton Mill and undergoing a triple bypass heart surgery, she and Richard opened a fish market in their small town and it was successful until she had to quit the business due to high blood pressure, diabetes and constant gall bladder problems.
I remember when I was coming out to my family; my grandmother was the last person I wanted to tell. I didn’t know how she would accept my lifestyle, being that she was a Christian and a member of the local Pentecostal Church. I would go to Raleigh visiting a friend every other week and my roommate would go with me from time to time. One day I stopped in at my Aunt Jean’s house and was alone. My grandmother came over and when she walked into the kitchen, I stood up, gave her a great big hug, as always, and sat down. She looked at me and said “where’s your boyfriend? He didn’t come with you this time?” I was shocked and I said, “Grandma, he is my roommate, not a boyfriend.” She just smiled and looked at me and said, “Shug (Short for Sugar), it doesn’t matter to me if you are gay. You are my grandson and I love you no matter what.” I just melted inside from the warmth and I realized that the woman before me was the most amazing woman in my life. I had no idea that she even entertained the idea of me being gay. Throughout our lifetime, we share so many fond memories of the loved ones who have meant so much to us. From our grandparents to our parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces and nephews. However, we take them for granted and think that they will always be here and never leave us. But unfortunately, time has a different way of looking at things because the Bible tells us that our days on earth are numbered and we know not when our time is up. This became apparent and realistic to me when in 1991, my grandmother Lillie Mae passed away. I remember the call as if it were just yesterday. I was sleeping and my brother came to my house and told me that she had just passed away due to complications of her gall bladder and fluid around her heart. I was devastated, but before long, I would come face to face with her just one last time. I walked up to her coffin and she was so much at peace and you could see the light of God on her face. The smile, I will never forget. But this is not meant to be a sad moment. Don’t shed tears of grief and pain, but tears of joy. I will always cherish the Greatest Woman I Ever Knew and am thankful each and every day for that wonderful precious gift that only God can give. She is not weeping for leaving, she is rejoicing in heaven and has joined her family, which includes four of her children, Earline, Buddy, Larry and Shelton and not to mention her two infant children that died shortly after birth. Always remember, “God only cries for the living, cause it’s the living that are left to carry on. All the Angels up in Heaven, they’re not weeping because they’re gone. There’s a smile on their faces, because they’re in a better place, than they’ve ever known. God only cries for the living, cause it’s the living that are so far from home.” It is a time to rejoice. Cherish the memories and know that you are never alone because they will always be with you. So this mother’s day, whether it’s your grandmother or your mother, remember time is just a blink of an eye and before you know it, they will be gone. Give them a hug, kiss them on the cheek and tell them how much you love and cherish them, for mothers and grandmothers are always, “The Greatest Women You Will Ever Know.”
On Mothers and Letting Go
By Tina Toler-Keel
Being a mother of four children is the greatest blessing I have ever received. It is a calling that is worth every pile of dirty laundry, every stain on the couch, every ounce of spilled Kool-Aid and every trip to the emergency room. At the end of a long, hard day, I go to sleep with worry in my heart for each of my children, yet I rest with the peace of knowing I am loved. Many young adults feel motherhood is easy and believe mothers are evil, cruel people hell-bent on destroying their lives. For some mothers, that may be true, but for the majority, it is purely a difference of opinions. I once felt my mom was out to hurt me, that her every motive was based on what would make the most miserable. I thought she had no clue what life was all about, had no idea what it meant to be in love, and didn’t understand anything I felt or thought. Looking back, I still believe there were times she was wrong, but for the most part, she was right. Had I listened things she told me, my life may have been easier and turned out better, but I was young, full of hope and ideas, and I discarded her advice, guidance, and concern like an old gum wrapper. As young adults, you are in a transition period between childhood and adulthood. I know at sixteen, seventeen, and even eighteen when you are a legal adult, you want nothing more than your hard earned independence and to be left alone. You feel you know what is best for you and want to make your own decisions. There is nothing wrong with that feeling. It is part of the growing up process and how each of us becomes an individual. Until your late teens and early twenties, your mothers guided you firmly. You were more than likely given a curfew, told when to do homework, who you were allowed to be friends with, etc. As you mature, that guidance weakens, but doesn’t go away completely. You want it to, but your mother may hold on to her control as long as possible. Does this mean she doesn’t trust you or does it mean she loves you and don’t want to let go? That’s hard to say. I think it depends on the mother. I can only speak for myself. I do my best to give my nineteen year old daughter as much freedom as possible, even while she is living at home. I give her advice when she asks, guide her gently, and try to be her friend. I try to let go, but it doesn’t always happen. A couple weeks ago we had a major break in our bond. She was doing things she felt were right and good. I felt they were treacherous and wrong. Long story short, we ended up arguing, both of us crying in our own beds an hour apart, and longing for days when our relationship wasn’t so complicated.
At this time, she was one week away from coming home for the summer. Our disagreement was putting a damper on what was supposed to be my happy time – my daughter’s return. Instead of getting her side of the room prepared and planning to fix her favorite meals, I was blocking on her on Facebook and praying non-stop. I was devastated when I was told by another person that she had written on her Facebook wall she had to find somewhere else to live. My baby girl, the daughter I love and cared for, had decided it was time to move on and away from me. At this point, I didn’t care that we had a difference of opinions on religion (she is atheist and I am Christian) or that I hated the events that transpired. I didn’t care that I was angry and her and she was even angrier at me. All I cared about was getting my daughter back. My first instinct, the one that was erupted from my hurt and anger, was to give up and walk away. Tough love is what some call it. Don’t give in. Let her find her own way and make her own mistakes. Let her move out and not come home. Let her see how hard life is without her mommy on her side. Ignore her. Don’t let her see me cry. Don’t let her see my hurt. Give up. I am thankful that the love I feel for her, the deep care and concern, and the devotion to loving my children took over very quickly, literally within an hour. Instead of pushing her further away by calling and telling her exactly what I thought or ignoring her, I did what my heart told me to do – the one thing I can never stop doing. I continued loving her. There were times in my life that I felt my mother’s love was conditional, that it was possible for me to do something to cause her to stop loving me. Looking back, part of this may have been due to her actions, but I now see a lot of it was because of me. I wasn’t an easy person to deal with, and Mom had always been a good person and typically walked the straight and narrow line, unlike her wild, rambunctious daughter who tested and overstepped every possible line. I now understand the pain that was behind her harsh words and harsh punishments, the confusion and fear behind her walking away. It wasn’t because she didn’t love me enough, but because she loved me just the right amount. Regardless of the reasons, I vowed no matter what I had to suffer or how much I would hurt, my children would never feel unloved. Instead of taking the easy route and walking way, I kept calling her. Voice mail after voice mail caused my heart to sink and pain to erode deep into my soul. At last, I convinced her to call. During that conversation, many tears were shed on each side of the line. I told her I disagreed with a great deal she was doing, but that I still loved her no matter what. I told her over and over again. I think within a thirty minute time I told her over fifty times how much I love her.
I finally took a deep breath and said, “Why don’t you come home? You don’t have to stay for the summer, but come home for a week or so and let’s talk about this. You are my daughter and I refuse to lose you.” Through a sob, she agreed. The next day, I drove an hour to spend the day with her. I didn’t know what to expect or how the day would go. All I knew was I had to hug her and make her know that she could do nothing to destroy my love. Our day was very nice, although it was somewhat strained. We agreed not to talk seriously about our issues, but to just spend time together. It was the first time I had been to visit her when it was just the two of us. I took her to lunch at the Mexican restaurant where we laughed about the waiter flirting with her and the guy at the bar watching me. It would have made us both feel better, but the guys were, well, a little on the scary side. That made it even funnier. Although I had toured the campus with her several times, she took me on my first real tour. I beamed with pride when she took me to her classrooms and showed me where she sat. I stopped and took pictures of her, and of flowers, and of everything. This was a day the healing began and I wanted it captured on film.
I left the campus that day with a lighter heart. I saw more of the real Emily emerge through smiles, laughter, and shared jokes than I had seen in a while. I knew things weren’t going to change between us immediately and we still had a hard road ahead of us, but I also knew our love was strong enough to make it through. I hope through my journey of learning to let my daughter go while still holding on, you get a better understanding of mothers. We are a strong lot of women, full of hope, love, and hugs. But we are also weak women, full of doubt, fear, and heartache. We want you to have the perfect life, and although we want you to make your own mistakes and grow into the person you are meant to be, it hurts us to watch you walk away. It causes us great pain seeing you making decisions we know from our own experiences are wrong. Mothers are not perfect. We are grown-up adults and we feel we should know all the answers, but we don’t. We do the best we can and hold on to our babies as long as we can, not because we do not trust you, but because we love you and are not ready to let go. I hope each of you takes a minute to think about your own mothers and even your fathers. Try to see your relationship through their eyes. Realize they are not perfect, but that they love you. Remember, you are their child, the one they have taken care of and nurtured, and letting go isn’t easy. Thank them for caring about you and assure them they are loved. I know at times you doubt your parents love. That is normal and natural. But mothers doubt your love too. We feel you pulling away more each day, and although we know intellectually it is a normal and good thing, our hearts tell us differently. Assure your mother even though you are becoming independent and need to grow up, you will always be her baby and you will always love her. One day, you will be a forty four year-old parent in the throes of your own parenting woes and will be glad you never walked away and have your mother by your side. Now, instead of finishing reading this edition, minimize your screen, or leave it on, get up from your chair, go to your mother and give her a great big hug and say, “I love you Mom.” Trust me; this is a gift she will never forget!
My Mother, My Friend By Emily Toler My mother is my best friend. I know a lot of girls say that, but she really is. She’s who I tell most of my secrets to, who I confide in, and who I know will be there to support me at the end of the day. When I was younger, my school let out before my younger siblings’, so we would go to the convenient store and buy a Coke to drink while we waited for them to get out of school. During this hour, we would listen to the radio, talk about our days, and just goof off. I treasured that hour when I was younger. When I moved to college, my mom and I remained close, but our bond was different. I got what I wanted so desperately – I was out of the house and away from the problems there. I had independence. This newfound independence took up most of my thoughts, ideas, and actions. Many days, I was so busy hanging out with my friends that I would forget to call my mom or text her back. I ended up settling into a habit of calling her on my way to and from class. During these short 10-15 minute periods, I would tell her a little about the day I was having and I would almost always complain about the wind. (It’s very windy in Pembroke and I despise the wind!!) Sometimes I would tell her about whatever drama was happening that day, but we mostly stuck to lighthearted subjects. About a week before I was set to come home for the summer, we were on opposite ends of a huge debate on Facebook. While we weren’t the only ones involved in the debate, our relationship was greatly affected. Shortly after the debate, my mother blocked me and my boyfriend, Aaron, on Facebook without any explanation or reason. I was deeply hurt and confused by this act and by the end of the night, I had convinced myself that she didn’t want me anymore and that I was a screwup and I was never going to be allowed back in the house. My brain went haywire and I went through my friends and started deleting anyone I thought might tell my mom what I put on Facebook. I cried for two days straight, and I was continuously haunted by the thought that my mother had abandoned me all because we had different opinions on something. After a while, I finally managed to calm down and call my mother. We spent a while on the phone, and she told me over and over again that she loved me. She explained the real reason she blocked me from Facebook, which wasn’t even close to the reason I thought she had blocked me. She also convinced me to come home, at least for a week, so that we could talk things out and fix our relationship. I agreed and went on with the rest of my week knowing that my mom actually loved me. She came up to my school the day after the phone call and we hung out all day. It was somewhat strained, and we could both feel it. But we had a really good day.
We went to San Jose and ate really good Mexican food. I took her on a real tour of the campus, showing her where all of my classes were and where I sat. I showed her the best bathrooms on campus and where I was going to stay next year. It was a lot of fun, even though it was really hot and we were both tired. Once she left to go back home, I was confident that things would be somewhat okay. I’m back at home now, and I feel like things are better between my mom and I. We talk like we used to, but every now and then, a comment will be made and we’ll share an awkward silence. I don’t feel as judged for my choices as I once did. I feel like we have a better understanding of one other and a higher respect for one another. The biggest thing I learned from all of this is that I love my mom and that I would be miserable without her. Sure, I could probably survive, but I’d always be searching for a relationship like ours. My mom is truly my best friend and I couldn’t thrive without her.
Editor’s Note: Our relationship went through a test of the worst kind, both mother and daughter feeling unloved and lost. Instead of us allowing an argument and difference of opinions pull us apart, we communicated our needs, fears, and feelings to one another and were able to rise above the difficulties. Although we still have a difference of beliefs and opinions, it is not worth letting our relationship go. At one time or another, all relationships go through tests and trials. When it happens, be sure and keep the communication lines open, discuss your feelings, be clear about your reasons, and never let your difference destroy your love. In the previous article, I briefly discussed my account of our disagreement. In this article, Emily brings her point of view out of hiding. We were both sharing the same feelings of loss, but for different reasons and in different ways. I am happy to say that now we are getting along and back to being friends. It isn’t always easy, but it so worth it. To my daughter, Emily: You will never lose me. I love you baby girl! ~Tina aka Mommy
She may be independent, but she still Needs her mommy too.
As I sat down and thought about what I wanted to write for Mother’s Day, I of course knew I would do an article on my mother, and one on my grandmothers, but the more thought I put into it, I realized I wasn’t revealing the whole picture as far as mothers in my life go. There is one more person who deserves praise, and deserves to be recognized, and that is my daughter, Jessica. Jessica is only fourteen years old, does not have children of her own, although she hopes to in the very distant future. Yet, she is a mother in the true essence of the meaning. Her heart is pure as a heart can be and her nurturing disposition touches everyone. At school, she is known as the mother of the group. She is the one reminding her friends to get a napkin, turn in their homework, or the one listening to their problems and helping find a solution. Across the street live two very active children. Instead of getting irritated when the little girl wants her attention, Jessica lovingly takes time out of her day to make the girl feel special. She is always doing her hair, painting her toe nails, or helping her draw pictures. Maddie adores Jessica. But there is a deeper reason for me honoring my daughter as a mother than just her mothering instincts. It is to thank her for taking such wonderful care of me! I have a health condition that often flares up and leaves me unable to take care of the house or myself, but I never worry because Jessica picks up the slack for me. She is always willing to do a load of towels when clean ones are running low, clean the bathroom when it’s a disaster, or help her brother with his homework when I am unable to. She does all this without complaining, whining, or even being asked, and she does it with a loving heart. On the days I am not well, she treats me like a child. She makes sure I am resting and fixes my blankets just right. She sits on the bed and talks to me when I am bored, and encourages me this won’t last forever when I feel like giving up. I never forget to take my medication, because Jessica brings it to me and forces me to take it. When I am doing well and working out in the yard or cleaning house, Jessica continues being my mother. “Mommy, have you eaten today? Why not? Well, here eat this toast I made you,” or “Mommy, you are working too hard, take a break.” Yes I am her mother and I take care of her, but she takes care of me too. We are a team, and a great one. So to my daughter Jessica, who treats me like her child (in a good way): Happy Mother’s Day, baby. I love and appreciate you more than you know.
All Different Kinds of Mothers When we think of mothers, we think of women who gave birth. They nurtured us in their bodies for nine long, miserable months, labored hard, and delivered us into a world full of unknowns. We should never take this momentous gift for granted, for without our birth mother, we would not exist; however, for some, the responsibility ended there. On mother’s day, I know many who cringe at celebrating because they never knew their mothers. This is an understandable and normal reaction; however, mother means so much more than just giving birth. Mothering a child means nurturing and caring. It means singing to the child when he or she is upset, scared, or sick. It is rocking him or her back to sleep after a nightmare. It is helping him or her with algebra homework. It’s about getting a teen ready for his or first day of school and reassuring him or her how great it will be. It’s about being there during heartaches and celebrations. It’s about love. True mothers come from every walk of life. They are tiny and large, loud and quiet, impatient and patient. They have red hair, blue hair, black hair, blonde hair, pink hair, and everything you can imagine. They are old and they are young. They are rich and they are poor. They are healthy and they are ill. None of these things, however, really matter. What matters is the love the ladies feel for their child. The mother in your life may be your biological mother, like in my case, or it may be someone else. Aunts, grandmothers, cousins, older sisters, or friends’ mothers can be your mom too. And, believe it or not, some men are moms, maybe not in society’s definition of mothers, but by their actions, their support, their nurturing ways, etc. A man can and often does, rise up and play the part of both parents. When this occurs, it isn’t abnormal, strange, or something to be shunned, but something to be embraced. If your biological mother isn’t your mom, go ahead and take a few moments, or hours, on Mother’s Day to grief, but then pick yourself up and remember the ones in your life who have cared the most for you, loved you, supported you, nurtured you, and mothered you and give them a call and say, “Thanks for being my mom.” ~Tina Toler-Keel
Four generations of Duncan Women From Left to Right Esther Anderson, Yvonne Duncan, Tina Toler-Keel, Emily Marie Toler
In honor of Mother’s Day, I wanted to honor a woman who meant everything to me. The woman who loved me when I was unlovable, believed in me when everyone else had lost hope, and was always by my side. My grandmother, Yvonne Duncan, always was and always will be a huge part of my life. Words fail me and I cannot express my love for her, nor can I explain the woman she was. Sometimes she was brutally hateful and negative, but the times she wasn’t, she was incredible. I learned more from her than anyone in my life, from helping those in need, cooking, camping, and so many other things. The day she died, a part of me died with her, yet a larger part continued to live, cherishing her memory. I know her spirit will always live inside me and I will never fully let go. Instead of writing about her, I have opted to publish my personal letter I wrote to her on the day of her funeral. This says more about my love for her than any article I could ever write.
March 22, 2011 Dear Mama, Your funeral is today. The family is now gathering for the viewing that begins in fifteen minutes and the service will begin in a little over an hour. I am unable to be there, but I must be a part of it and as much as I don't want to, I must say my good byes. So I sit here in my chair, drinking coffee and doing what I do best – remembering you and writing. I am sorry this is how I have to say good bye, but it's all I have. It doesn't feel right not being with my family – our family- but you and I always had a very special bond. Maybe my being alone is the right way. I haven't cried Mama. I shed a small tear yesterday while talking to Mom, but other than that tears won't come. I'm not in shock – I knew this was coming. I think there is just so much love and hurt inside of me it refuses to let loose. Or maybe I am at peace knowing your suffering is finally over. Maybe I've already shed all my tears for you. All I know is I'm hurting and I don't want you to be gone, but for now, I am okay. Maybe I'm doing okay because I promised you I would be and maybe God is helping me keep that promise. Since I am not there today, I wrote a short eulogy and Michael will read it for me. It was strange writing it, Mama. The words came to me so easily, as if an angel was guiding my thoughts. My biggest challenge was keeping it short, because there are so many ways to express my love for you and so many memories to share. Usually when someone leaves your life, we think, “There were so many words left unspoken, so many things I should have said,” but that isn't the case with us. Maybe that's because I am such a big talker, but I think it’s because you and I have always expressed our love. In my heart, I always know you have always been there for me, but I know the first real memory I have of it. We still lived on Second Street and Michael either wasn't born or was a tiny baby. I know his little room was complete and was all stocked up. Mom and Dad got into a really bad argument and were screaming at each other. I was terrified and didn't know what to do. Mom picked up a baby lotion bottle and threw it at the wall, which terrified me even more. I sneaked into the other room and called you. It was no time before you and Pa knocked on the door and I ran to safety in your arms. They were so loving and I knew then everything would be alright. You took me home with you even though Mom and Dad had settled down, and I slept peacefully with you by my side. Once we moved to Burnside Street it didn’t' take me long to wear out a path to your house. I walked up there almost every day, sometimes two or three times a day. I always felt like you and Pa were just sitting around waiting on me. Even though I know that wasn't the case, it was always a great feeling.
Sometimes I close my eyes and I am once again a young girl, tucked away safely in your arms and your heart. When life gets hard and I feel I have nowhere to turn and I am afraid, I feel you with me and know I am loved. I can still see you sitting in a chair at Mom's kitchen table, your hair in rollers and a big hood dryer over your head. Looking back I know I was a pest and you and Mom needed adult time, but I was always there. How many times did you lift that hood so you could talk to us? We gossiped about everybody and everything, complained about the weather, and talked about nothing at all. I remember Mom finally taking your hair out of curlers, brushing, teasing and spraying your hair while we talked. You were always so beautiful. And pizza! How could I forget our love of pizza? On my birthday every year Mom would ask what I wanted to do. I always wanted Mom, Dad, Michael, you and me to go eat pizza. Back then Grazianna's was still in the Raleigh Mall and we loved it. And there were so many times we would order pizza at the house and you would come down. But my favorites were when I was older and would go pick one up and we would sit in the kitchen and eat it all. Pa never would have a slice of our pizza pie, but that's okay. I would never eat his oyster stew. I remember feeling so much respect for you when Big Dad was still alive. You always fixed him a plate without fail and, no matter the weather, you would carry it across the street. That's when I truly learned compassion and how important it is to give to others. Maybe you complained about it or sometimes just didn't feel like it, but you did it. I remember sitting with you, Mom and Papa sometimes and I know he loved and appreciated you deeply. Cucumber and onions in vinegar will always remind me of summers at your house. You made the best ones. I would eat so many the inside of my cheeks would get raw, but oh was it worth it. And all our vacations! So many incredible memories. Sometimes it feels so long ago and sometimes it feels like just last summer. Remember when Freddie and Kim went with us? Or the trip with Patsy and her girls? She still talks about how much fun we had, your cooking and Pa's sassafras tea. Of course later on we gave up campers for cabins and life was easier. I will always remember Seneca Lake. No power, no running water, no television and no phones. You and Pa got a hoot out of me pumping water and feeding the mouse who lived in the outhouse. And of course my bath and shaving my legs in the kitchen sink wearing only my bra and panties. I always loved when I came to your house and played your records and looked at your pictures. You told me so many stories about them, and I learned more about you and your life. I learned you weren't always a grandmother and one time you really knew how to kick up your heels and have a good time! Those stories always made me happy and made me giggle. I can just imagine you, Lucy, and Audrey being young and living it up. There are far too many memories for me to share them all, but although they aren't written on paper, they are in my heart.
Your service began five minutes ago so it's time for my final words to you. Now doesn't that sound crazy? You know as long as I am alive I will continue talking to you. Do you still hear me? I hope so. I can't tell you good bye. You have always been here and I have loved you so much. Does God really think I can let you go? I can't, Mama. I can't make it without you. I've told Mama Dorothy and Pa good bye and for the most part I've let go. But I can't let you go. I can't bear to never see your smile or hear your laughter. Who will call me baby girl and make me feel like the most loved person on earth? How do I go on life without making more memories with you? Who else will understand me and take up for me no matter what stupid things I do? Who else will understand why I wear my pajamas all day long? Who else will ever tell me I am their favorite? This is supposed to be my final good bye – the day I let you go. I may be an adult and have my own children, but inside I'm still a scared little girl who needs to crawl in bed with her Mama and know she is safe. I need you. I always will. No matter where I am or where I go, you will always be a part of me. I know how much you loved me and it was enough to last me the rest of my life. I love you, Mama. Tina Marie
In Loving Memory of Yvonne Louise Marie Harrison Duncan May 7, 1925 - March 20, 2012
Missing Mom
By Brandi Simmons
In elementary school, it seems almost customary that every Father's Day and Mother's Day, some sort of paper craft heart, covered in glitter, is made to give to every mother and father on the planet. My first grade year holds a personal award of sorts as being the year of the best Mother's Day craft to date. A simple gluing of sticks and pink tissue paper onto construction paper made a vase full of flowers. I can remember concentrating intensely on every piece of tissue paper I glued down, making sure it was placed just so. My vase had at least ten shoots of pink tissue paper blossoms shooting out in all directions, with festive glue trails running down the page to match. My name, "Brandi" scrawled across the bottom of the page added a final touch to the project. After a bus ride that seemed to take forever, I ran inside, excitedly handing her gift to her; the look on my mother's face when she saw my work was priceless. Beaming with pride she took me into her arms and said, "Thank you, Pumkin, it's so pretty!" Though it's been twelve years since that day, I remember it as vividly as if I relived it every day. My mother was one of the most special people I have ever had in my life; she was a support line, a beacon when I needed to take shelter from a storm. If sidewalks ever rose up to trip me and scrape my knee, she was there to kiss it better and make me laugh. When the world wanted to show me nothing but the bad, her love showed me the good. In everything now, I see her: my mannerisms, the way my body is structured, the delicate curve of my wrist as it connects to my hand, even the icy blue of the eyes her family gave me. Now, more prevalent than ever, I can see my grandfather's face on the day she died. The sadness in my eyes in pictures taken on the day he and my grandmother joined her. Thinking back on that day, it seemed so carefree and simple, making that small token for her. In life now, there are times when I wish I had my mother back. Nothing can be as comforting or informing as one that you trust, having been through it before you even walked. The wisdom a mother holds can be unending, swelling like a wave before it crests in the sea.
My mother never had a chance to see my first musical, my first gig, the glow on my face after my first kiss. She never saw me graduate. She will never see her baby walk down the aisle. Never take your mother for granted. Once she's gone, there will be no one like her in the world left for you to have. I love you, Mom.
My mother has been many things to me: giver of life, provider, nurturer, counselor, friend, enemy, biggest supporter, worst enemy. During my teen years, there were times that I both loved her deeply and hated her with a passion. Looking back, I don’t think hate is the appropriate term, but that’s what I remember feeling. Our relationship is not unlike most mother-daughter relationships. Our ups and downs have been frequent and emotionally charged with static thick enough to light up the night sky. Through it all, however, I know she loves me. Growing from a child into a young adult was detrimental to our relationship. I wanted to do things my way, make my own mistakes, and thought I knew best. She wanted me to avoid heartache and pain, side step the worst mistakes, and thought she knew best. I know now she knew a lot more than I did and she was mostly right. Some of the time, I was right. And sometimes, neither of us were. We both made mistakes along the way, but that served as a catapult toward growth and developing and maintaining an adult mother-daughter friendship. My mother grew up in a Christian home and attended a strict Nazarene church, the same church she goes to now. Based upon her upbringing and her beliefs, she always felt in her heart homosexuality was a sin and gays should have no rights. My dad believes the same way. I don’t know why I am different and why I did not follow their footsteps, but I am more open minded and set in my own foundation. When my son came out as gay, I was afraid my mother would turn against him or, at least, highly disapprove. I think the moment she said, “I don’t really like it, but I love him and will never look down on him” was the day I realized how much my mother truly cared. Instead of turning her back on my son for being homosexual or on me for supporting him, she accepted it. I know this was not easy on her, but she did it. That is the epitome of a great and true love.
Over the last few years, I have advocated for gay rights and for more understanding and acceptance of the LGBT community. My mother does not always agree with my thinking, in fact most of the time she doesn’t; however, she always heard me out and really listened to what I have to say. I am proud of her for learning to open her mind and heart, to truly think through issues instead of just believing what was taught, and for her acceptance. The one thing I always wanted was for my parents to be proud of me. When I started advocating for LGBT teens and writing magazine articles to support them, I truly believed my mother would disown me, or even worse, be ashamed of me. However, the greatest thing happened: I earned her pride. Mom and I have had some of the greatest times together and often reminisce over them. It is great fun thinking back to days long ago and all the silly antics that took place, mostly mine. We have our share of inside jokes, such as Thor, Maryland, “I didn’t sleep a wink”, smoke alarms in the middle of the night, and horses. I won’t explain all these here, but I know Mom knows what each one means. Last year, my grandmother grew very ill and we knew the end was coming. The last two weeks were the worst weeks of my life. Each day, she was slipping further and further away and death was inevitable. Mom had always been very close to her parents and my grandmother lived with her during her last six months on earth. Mom took her illness and death very hard. The last few nights of my grandmother’s life, Mom would call me after everyone in the house had settled in, a nurse was watching over my grandmother, and phone calls had been returned. Often the call came in after midnight, but that was okay. I was always up waiting. During these calls, we both shed many tears. Our pain was evident in our language and our apathy. There was no way of hiding, and since we both felt the same pain, we didn’t have to hide behind the façade of “I’m okay.” But as difficult as that time was for us both, something fantastic and wonderful happened during our late night chats. We grew closer and developed a bond that is stronger than before, one that will not ever be broken. Maybe my grandmother planned it. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was because we both needed one another. I don’t know the reason, and I don’t care. All I know is a blessing occurred during a horrible time.
While Mom and I chatted on those long nights, my husband slept beside me. Many times, he woke up, rolled over, and stared at me for just a minute. I know he was wondering if I was losing my mind. Instead of him being woken up by my sobs, he was awoken by laughter. Yes, even in the worst times, my mother and I find humor in the littlest things. One night, we had been crying more than usual and were both distraught and exhausted. I unfortunately lived eight hours away and because I had children in school, I could not be by her side, so we comforted one another via long distance. My grandmother had an especially difficult time that evening. She had been in tremendous pain and had difficulty breathing. Although Mom wasn’t ready to let her mother go, she knew healing was not possible and prayed for the end to come quickly. I will never forget her words to me that turned my tears into laughter. “I cracked the window some. It’s too cold to open it very far, but I had to crack it so that angels could get through and come be with Mom. Lynn (her sister) said, ‘Margie, that window isn’t opened up far enough for an angel to fit through.’ I replied, ‘Well, Lynn, I just hope they are skinny angels.’” I couldn’t control myself and burst into laughter. From that point on, our conversation flip flopped between laughter and tears. This is our relationship in a nutshell. Sometimes we laugh. Sometimes we cry. Sometimes we do both. The important thing is that we do it together. I am now glad I rode out the storms of my young adult life and no matter how far I tarried, whether emotionally or physically, I always returned back to the loving arms of my mother. She has become my best friend, my trusted advisor, my biggest advocate and fan. No matter how old I am or where I am in life, I know I will always have the love of my mother. And I will always be her baby girl. My mom, Esther Duncan Anderson
Not Everyone Has a Mother By Jessica Toler
We all remember calling out “MOMMY!!! I HAVE A BOO-BOO!” when we were little. We all remember crawling into our mom’s warm, comforting arms when we had a nightmare. We all remember getting to tell our moms about our new best friend we made a school. We all remember when we were in 2nd grade telling our moms about that kid at school who we have a crush on. We all remember in 5th grade telling our moms about that cool thing we learned in science today. We all remember telling our moms about the first girlfriend/boyfriend we had. And we all remember in middle school, telling our mom that our “best friend” was really telling everyone our secrets and was the start of all the rumors about us. And of course, we all have those memories of when we were mad at our moms. We remember getting spanked because we left her side in the mall, and she thought, “I LOST YOU FOREVER!! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” We all remember the times we got in trouble for not sleeping and doing something else. We all remember the many times we got in trouble with our best friend for doing all sorts of “awful” things. We all remember the first time we got in trouble for not doing our math homework. And we all remember getting in trouble for “That call I got today that you were screaming in the hallway” before explaining it was all about our “best friend”. And if you don’t have exactly these memories, we all have our own. Almost everyone has those memories that he or she holds close to him or her. And of course, there are some people who don’t. So even though this could be all about “How to share these memories with your mom on Mother’s Day,” this article is about something much more important. This is about those kids who don’t have moms. This is about those kids who have moms, but their moms aren’t really there. And this is about those kids who moms abuse them. And even though we all wish that everyone had these amazing memories of his or her mother, they don’t. So let’s be honest here, this Mother’s Day, most of these kids are going to act like nothing is wrong. They’re going to hide when most of us are out to eat with moms enjoying them. And most of us won’t even think about them. Most of us will forget that they’re even out there. Most of us, well honestly, most of us won’t even care. And that’s wrong. We should all care, and we should all do what we can to help them through it. I mean how would you feel if you’d lost your mother, and a whole day is spent for them, a whole day during which you watch other families that aren’t broken; families that are happy. How would you feel?
I’m not going to say, well that’s easy! You just need to do blah blah blah; because, honestly, it depends on the person. Some people would prefer to be left alone, and if you know that’s true, just give them a reassuring “I’m here for you,” and then just leave them alone. Some people will want to just complain. And if that’s true, then just listen. Don’t interrupt or try and give advice, just be. And there are those people who want all the advice you can possibly give. I know that sometimes advice is hard to give, but if you’re meant to be giving it, I’m sure you’ll think of it. There are many different types of people, so odds are if you’re talking to someone about this, you at least know enough about him or her to know what he or she needs, and if not just ask him or her what he or she needs. And of course, my personal favorite piece of advice for anything is, ask yourself what you need. Or you can always think to yourself, if someone else was asking me what to do, what would I tell them? Because I think we all know that it’s hard to think of things for ourselves, but really easy to give it out to others. So just keep all of this in your mind during Mother’s Day, and try to help these people the best that you can. Also, be really great to your mother and give her the best gift possible!
Being raised by a father or grandfather may leave an empty hole in the heart of a young adult. They must take time to grief, but then remember to be thankful for all the love he or she has in his or life. There is always love to be found!
Tina Toler-Keel
Dorothy Emelie Kinser Todorovich
I love sitting on the porch watching lightning dance in the sky, rain falling swiftly to the ground, and listening to the thunder boom. I love seeing a roaring fire sending sparks of red, blue, and yellow into the sky. I love watching the Weather Channel and witnessing through the marvels of electronics a tornado or a hurricane. Weather amuses me. Sunny days, cloudy days, stormy days, huge storms that rip apart cities, small storms that send little balls of hail to the ground, weather is awesome in the literal sense of the word. I hate seeing cities being destroyed and people hurt or killed. It breaks my heart, but the actual weather elements are another story. Why do I have such a keen interest in weather? Why am I fascinated by hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods? Where does an interest like that emerge from? I can’t answer for others, but for me it comes from one phenomenal lady, Dorothy Emilie Todorovich.
Dorothy, or as I will be referring to her, Mama Dorothy, was the mother of my father, making her my grandmother. She was as unique as they come with a heart the size of a planet. Her faith was astounding and steadfast and her love for gardening showed in her gorgeous, larger than anyone else’s flowers. She was a matriarch, a role model, a friend, and a precious soul. My favorite story about her involves the weather. West Virginia has had its share of large floods and a few years before her death was no exception. A particularly bad one hit small rural towns, causing folks to pack up and evacuate their homes. At the time, my dad worked with the rescue team for the West Virginia National Guard and knew exactly how dangerous the waters were. He also knew how interested Mama Dorothy was in weather, especially standing water, and knew she would venture out into danger, looking for water. He was right. Mama Dorothy knew where Dad was working, so she coerced my uncle to take her to another town that had been affected, several hours away from where Dad would be. She always got a thrill out of nature and could not be kept home. Dad’s plans changed and he was sent elsewhere. He had walked out of a store where he was buying fresh water, and saw a car that resembled his mother’s. He knew it wasn’t her because he had forbid her to go. Upon closer examination, he realized it was her. She hadn’t listened at all and put herself into a dangerous position. She didn’t care. If she had been caught up in the rushing water and carried off to her death, she would have died doing what she loved. Thankfully, Dad talked her into going to a place where the water wasn’t so bad and then going home. In West Virginia the rivers flow at a face pace and white water rafting is a big tourist attraction. It is so much fun. If you have never been, I highly encourage you to give it a try. It was in the early eighties that rafting became a big thing, and my grandmother, although she was well into her sixties, couldn’t wait to go rafting. Off she went with a group of friends, excited about the rushing water and not giving a hoot about the dangers. If I close my eyes and become very still, I can almost still hear her talking about the trip. She loved the fast paced race through gushing white water and the thrill of careening around big jagged rocks. When the waters calmed, she got a huge kick out of bailing water from the raft and laughed like a little school girl at the antics the adults performed. Apparently one is never too old to throw buckets of water at others and apparently it will always be funny. She had a love for adventure and excitement. At times, I thought she was crazy, but as I grew up and let go of a few of my fears, I understand her thoughts. It is during the times of rushing water pouring into a raft on a river, times of loud thunder and artistic lightning, and times of water standing over the doors of homes one truly feels alive and appreciates all life has to offer. There are many things that remind me of Mama Dorothy – iced tea, back porches, buckets of cherries, prayers, and snap dragons, but the times I feel closest to her is still during thunderstorms. When I am feeling down and out, like no one ever remembers me in their prayers, and the world feels too harsh, I pray silently for a long thunderstorm. The memories that come back to me, bouncing off the rain, bring me comfort and love. And it is during those times, I know even though she is gone, someone is praying for me and
Still My Family
Left to Right: Emily Toler, Eric Toler, Rich Toler Coetta Toler, Tina Toler-Keel, Jessica Toler Jacob Toler
Mother-in-laws deserve a special thank you on Mother’s Day. They are the one who gave birth to the man you fell in love with, the one who raised that man to be the person he is, and the one who taught him to be a husband and father. But what happens when your mother in law becomes an ex and is not part of your family anymore? This is the situation I found myself in a little over six years ago. It took me a little time, but I finally realized just because I am no longer in love with her son, there will always be a part of me that cares for him deeply, a part of me who loves the father he is, and my ex mother in law will always be special and important to me. I am blessed to still have Coetta Toler as a part of my life, even though her son and I are no longer together. We don’t talk as often as I would like, mostly because I get so busy with my own life, nor do we see one another often, but when we do it is like time has stood still. I still respect her a great deal and love her as much or more than ever. As a grandmother to my children, Coetta can’t be beat. Whether it is spoiling the kids with cookies for breakfast, taking time to listen to them talk, or just giving them a big hug, she meets her grandmotherly “duties” with open arms and an open heart. I once had someone ask me, “Tina, why do you allow her to give your children cookies for breakfast and allow her to let them eat desert before dinner?” I didn’t hesitate before answering, “Because that is what makes grandmothers so special.” She does indeed make their life special by spoiling them, but she also abides by and respects my morals, values, and decisions. If there is something she knows I am set against, she complies even if she doesn’t agree. For that, I am truly thankful. While my ex-husband and I were married, we lived next door to Coetta for many years. Anytime I needed anything, whether it be a friend to chat with, a babysitter, a strong cup of coffee, or a hug, I walked up to her house and she was there for me. Most of my favorite adult vacations were ones we took with my ex-husband, my children, and my in-laws. It never felt like they were the “outlaws” but felt like they were truly my family. Sitting on the beach with Coetta and watching the men and the kids play in the waves is a time that will remain frozen in my heart. When I feel down, lonely, and blue I conjure up the images of the two of us and my frozen heart melts, allowing love back in. To have a mother in law not be your enemy goes against the vision conjured up by jokes, but not only was my mother in law not my enemy, she was my best friend. She may be my ex-mother in law, but she will always be my friend and I will always love her.
By Emily Toler For many people, being a mother is the greatest joy on earth. They contribute the best times of their lives to staying at home with their kids and watching them grow. They plaster pictures of their sons and daughters on Facebook, upload pictures of ultrasounds and pregnancies every chance they get. They coo over one other’s pictures and share stories about their children’s first steps, first words, and other loveable antics. I see a lot of girls on Facebook commenting things like, “I can’t wait to be a mother.” While there’s nothing wrong with this mindset, I feel the complete opposite from these girls. I’m not even sure if I want kids. But one thing I know for sure is that at this moment in time, I am not ready to be a mother. My fourteen year old sister has always dreamed of being a mother. She would play with baby dolls from a young age and pretend that they were her children. I, on the other hand, tended to shy away from playing with dolls, turning instead to playing school and doMy mommy and me ing puzzles. To this day, I still hold that same 1993 disposition – I’m more interested and passionate in attending school and receiving an education than I am building a family. Books attract my attention faster than baby clothes. I make a beeline towards the office supply section of stores when so many others look at car seats and baby food. I’m not saying that women can’t balance raising a child and going to school. In fact, I know a lot of mothers who are going to school while their child is still young. My own mother, whom I love deeply, opted to stay at home and raise four children instead of finishing college, a decision she has never regretted. For me, however, that is a course I would never want to take. I would like to finish school before I even worry about raising a child. One of the biggest aspects of motherhood is the fact that your child is completely dependent on you, especially in infancy. They require you to feed them, give them a safe place to sleep at night, make sure they are clean and healthy, and giving them all the love and affection you have. For many women, this seems like a small price to pay for a loving, precious child. For me, it feels more like a death sentence. I can’t imagine someone being completely dependent on me for even the most basic needs. At this point in my life, I don’t even have the money to buy myself food. I’m almost completely dependent on my mom and step-dad for everything – a place to live, food to eat, transportation, etc. I couldn’t handle someone being dependent on me when I’m not even independent yet.
Aside from wanting to finish school and become independent, there is also one big thing holding me back from wanting children. I suffer from depression and anxiety, conditions which, on some days, make me unwilling and unable to even get out of bed. My depression has gotten worse over the past few years, as has my anxiety. I often find myself experiencing the physical symptoms of these mental illnesses as well as the psychological symptoms. Before I even begin to think about taking care of a child, I want to get a little bit better. I started down the journey to getting better by going to the counseling center at my college and attending a few sessions of therapy. However, I still have a long road to go. Finally, I’m just not sure if I even want to have children. They’re highly impressionable, highly energetic little people and frankly, children make me nervous. If I do become a mother in the future, I have no doubt that I will love them with every fiber of my being. For now, though, I’m not ready to be a mother.
Me, my brother Eric, and my sister Jessica circa 2000
Her
n y n h o J s e’ A Personal Journey Time Can Never Replace a Mother
This is my first article for this wonderful magazine and it is an honor to be asked to be involved in this special Mother’s Day Edition. I had the distinct pleasure by God to be blessed to be given to such a wonderful, beautiful human being who taught me to be the man I have become. The best way to describe her is to tell you about her life and the sacrifices that she had to make in order to raise a family.
She was born in 1944 to Lillie Mae and Nassie Bass and she was just one of nine. She had five brothers and three sisters. In order to leave home at an early age, she married her first husband at the tender age of 14 and she soon had a daughter at 15 in 1959. She divorced him and soon met my future father and married him in July of 1965, the year of my birth. Her life was not very pleasant before my father. Her first husband would beat her and kick her in the stomach with combat boots; due to this, she miscarried two children. She vowed that she would never allow herself to be subjected to such punishment ever again. In order to make her first husband pay for this, after he came home drunk one night and beat her with a belt and fell asleep, she stripped him down, tied his hands and feet to the bed, and began to beat him until he bled. She then left her home and moved back in with her parents.
Once she married my dad, her life would begin to change for the better. In 1967 she had my brother Donald, and in 1968 my brother Michael came along. However, this last birth should have been a pleasant one, but during this pregnancy, her nerves snapped and when Michael was born, she blamed him for her predicament. She refused to feed him, change his diaper, or perform any of her motherly duties. Her sister, my Aunt Jean, moved in with my parents to help take care of my little brother. You know, in life, God has a way of bringing a person from the brink; what better way to do this than with a child? My Aunt Jean had gone to the store one morning and mom was watching television when Michael, who was supposed to be sleeping in his crib, starting crying. Mom said she tried to ignore his cries but he kept crying. She decided to get him a bottle of milk and then she went into the bedroom, and as soon as she got to the crib, he stopped crying and, looking up at my Mom, he smiled at her. She began to cry and reached down and picked him up and she said that she cried and told him to forgive her, and from that moment on, our family moved forward. I have learned from my mom over the years, as she would always say, “Anyone can have a child, but not everyone can be a mother.” This is so true in today’s society, where women have lost the meaning of what it means to be a family, that my friends are an entirely different story. My mother was the stay-at-home mother. My father was a truck driver and, unfortunately, he wasn’t home as much, so Mother was the person who disciplined us; however, when Dad got home, we got it again, so we never forgot. It takes a lot to run a household. Take care of the bills, wash the clothes, cook the meals, make sure we had lunch money for school, and when we were out, we always knew to be home when the street lights came on. Mother’s Day is the day that is set aside to give thanks to the woman who gave birth to you, bathed you, and made sure you had clothes to wear; the woman who taught you how to pray and tucked you in all those nights. God has a way with mothers; I believe He gave them super hearing, because when we were put to bed, no matter how quiet we thought we were, she could hear us talking on the other side of the house. Mom would tell us later, as a mother, your sense of hearing and everything else is amplified tenfold. As we got older, my mother became so much more; she became my friend. She was always the one person you could talk to about anything. All of our friends would call her Mom. As my friend Billy would always say, “With Johnny’s mom you always knew where you stood with her. If she liked you, you knew it. If she didn’t, you knew it.” The one thing about my family was there was no lack of love for each other, and when it came to someone insulting her children, those were fighting words. Mom would always say, “You can do anything you want to me, but if you mess with my children, you will learn what fire and brimstone is all about.” She could be feisty, fiery and definitely in a mood to fight, and all you had to do was make her mad. I remember the time when my mother learned of my gay lifestyle. I had just returned from Texas after a breakup and decided that it was time to come out to my friends and family. I remember my friend Billy and David came to see me, and I told them that I was gay and all they said was, “It’s about time you realized it, we always knew. We were waiting for you to make up your mind.” The next day my brother Donald, who is in the Navy, came down with his wife and kid and I got my brothers together and came out to them, to no surprise. I guess more people knew than I thought. Well, to make a long story short, we went to the store and when we returned, my sister-in-law said that Karen had told my mother that I had something bad to tell her. I lived with my mom and dad, and she wouldn’t talk to me for 3 months. This hurt me because I loved my mother more than anything, so I prayed that God would give me the words to say to her. I marched into the kitchen, where she was cooking and I said, “Mom, I need for you to sit down.” She responded by saying to let her pass and I said, “We need to talk.” She sat down and I said, “Mom I love you more than anything in this world. What has transpired over the last 3 months is tearing me apart. You may not like my lifestyle, but I am the same kid that you gave birth to and the only thing that has changed is you now know my lifestyle. You may hate my lifestyle, but you can’t hate me, I am your son.”
My mother broke down and we held each other for a long time. She was still, and always would be, my best friend and the one true person who loved me for me. My mother never met a stranger. She was funny. She was sweet and loved her family very much. I have so many memories, and perhaps one day I can share more with you. This is meant to be a tribute to a woman who gave so much of herself and asked for nothing in return. I look around and see so many people who mistreat, scream, and curse at their parents and it hurts me to the core because they know not the time and the place of their passing. Most have this mentality that mothers will live forever. The Bible tells us our days are numbered. We do not know the day or the time of our passing and we should live everyday as if it will be our last. We should always honor thy father and thy mother, and if this article changes the life of a mother and her children’s relationship, then my message has been carried out. Back in May 2004, my mother went into the hospital for a routine colonoscopy, and during the procedure the doctor ruptured her spleen, unbeknownst to the family. I took her home and later that night she was hurting really badly and refused to go to the hospital. I came home from bowling and they told me what had happened; I said that if she was not better by morning, she will go to the hospital. I was awakened at 4 am and was told my mom was not responsive and that she was white as a sheet. I went into the room and she was cold to the touch and very, very white. I called my sister-in-law and told her; she came over, we called the rescue squad, and she barely had a heartbeat and no blood pressure. They rushed her to the hospital and she died 3 times along the way, they had said. Needless to say, she spent the next 3 months in the hospital. They had to remove most of her intestines and she had to have 24 hour care. She left the hospital and went into a nursing home for one month, and then she spent the last 2 months of her life with her sister. We had an opportunity that most people never get to have, and that’s knowing that the inevitable is coming, and all we can do is mend broken fences, resolve hard feelings, and just clear the air. Forgiveness is yet another gift from God, and believe me, no matter what you do, a mother will always forgive. In the early morning hours of November 19, 2004, the hospice nurse broke the news that my mother had passed away. I remember when I got the call, my younger brother came to me and I met him at the door and all he said was, “Mom’s gone.” We embraced each other and cried. This article is not an obituary; nor is it meant to be a sad occasion. Yes, I miss my mother very much. You never get past the hurt, but you remember the good times that were shared. This article is meant to be a memorial and a testament to a woman who was taken much too soon. However, I feel her with me every day. When I hurt, I feel her presence and that is a joy that warms my heart. So take the time this Mother’s Day to thank her for all that she has done for you. Give her a great big hug and say, “I love you, Mom,” and mean it with all your heart. Although I don’t have the pleasure of wrapping my arms around her, but I can still say: “Happy Mother’s Day. I Love You.”
In Loving Memory r Mrs. Earline Bass Hair entered her Father’s Heavenly Gates on November 19, 2004, with her family by her side. She now resides in Heaven with her mother on streets of gold, rejoicing with other loved ones who have passed on. She was a former cake decorator and also enjoyed doing ceramics. She was widely known as the lady who sang like Loretta Lynn when she performed her favorite hobby, karaoke. Earline and her sisters sang for the Lord at churches and at other facilities. She was a woman of great faith. Richard Petty and Dale Earnhardt, Sr. were her favorite NASCAR drivers. She enjoyed races so much that she was a driver herself with the powder puff. She loved life, music, friends and family. She had a great sense of humor. We will always remember her as we look into the eyes of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Her legacy will continue on forever. We will see her in their smiles, laughter, and humor. We will remember her as a devoted wife, loving mother, loving grandmother, and great grandmother. Johnny R. Hair, Jr. Her Oldest Son