I find it ironic that the day that I feel I truly grew to understand my mother was the day that she passed away from this world. For my whole life, she was there in every way imaginable. She took care of me. She had the answers to everything whether I accepted them or not. She made me laugh. She made me cry. She made me mad. She often told me things that I was too young to understand, but that would make sense to me later.
Occasionally, she transitioned from being super strong to showing me the softer side of her. In addition to showing her vulnerability through being loving, she also shared with me the grief that plagued her following her mother’s passing. In hindsight, I know that losing her mother changed her life and thus, shaped mine. The woman that my mother grew to become was equally due to her mother raising her to age 19 and also to her having to do her entire adult life without my grandmother. I’m sure there were many times that my mom didn’t know if she was making the right decisions. Many times, she probably didn’t want to make decisions at all. She did, however, do what needed to be done. I get it now. I get her now.