Missing Mom

Mom and Jamal, December 2003

Friday was my mother's birthday. The reminder that popped up on my Apple devices just after midnight was jarring. I thought at some point during the day I would be overcome with emotion but it didn't happen.

I did not cry.

On Saturday, Barack Obama "officially" kicked off his campaign for reelection.
On Saturday, I cried... a lot.

Today, I'm crying again.

My mother died on March 4, a devastating blow after we all had been so hopeful a few weeks earlier. (See January post) It was devastating even though in the end we'd moved her to hospice care and were preparing for her death.

My cousin Brenda who lost her mother -- my favorite aunt -- more than a decade earlier, warned me that the tears would come when they come and that I should be prepared to let them flow.

She was right. But what she didn't tell me was that I'd never know what would trigger the tears.

• I assumed it would be music, like Eva Cassidy who mom loved or old R&B tunes.
• I thought it might be pictures, like one of  her and Jamal at Christmas in 2003.
• I thought it could be going to bed with memories of her churning endlessly in my head.

None of the things that I was prepared to be seared by have moved me to tears.
Which brings us back to Saturday... and Barack Obama.

After my mom died, we found among her things a folder which she had labeled "history." Inside were newspaper and magazine clippings about Obama and pictures of him that she'd ripped from various publications.  I also found a very old replica of a poster encouraging Black people to register and vote.

With that discovery, I learned something about my mother, something we'd never discussed -- that she cared about our history; that she was acutely aware of how far her people had come; and that it meant so much to her that she needed to have her own documentation -- the proof in her own hands.

I was amazed. I'm not sure whether I was amazed because I had uncovered an aspect of her life about which I was completely oblivious or amazed that she had such a keen interest in history and politics. I was amazed because it's something we could have shared but never did. Why didn't we talk?

Scrolling through emails on Saturday, I came across one from the Obama campaign saying he'd take the stage at a rally in Ohio at 12:45 ET to launch his 2012 reelection bid.

The tears started.

The automated email triggered tears because it brought to me a tangible reminder of a part of who my mother was -- a proud woman, a woman who was interested in history and to the best of her ability followed what was happening in the world, a woman who was proud of her president.

I was crying because I was grateful that she had lived long enough to see America elect its first African American president. I was crying because I knew she would have been tuned in to his announcement on Saturday. I was crying because I wished we had talked more about history... talked more about everything. But most of all,  I was crying because I miss her.