Rishire Writes

Mother’s Day has always been one of my favorite holidays because I was raised by an incredibly strong, single mother. My mother was always there for my sister and me, and now as an adult, I see it for what it was – heroic. She would celebrate every little thing for us – bringing us cookie cakes in class for Valentine’s Day, decorating the house as best she could for Christmas. Even with the limited funds I grew up with, she always made an effort to do something special for us, and I can proudly say that we always appreciated it.

I truly don’t resonate with the portrayal of children on TV with their terrible attitudes and their lack of appreciation for the love their parents shower on them. I can’t imagine being anything but grateful for my mother’s love, even as a moody teenager. That’s probably when I felt it the most as I grieved her death at the age of fifteen. Her presence seemed even bigger then in her absence.

My mothering didn’t stop, though. As soon as my mom passed, it was as if the rest of the women in my life stepped in to love on me, especially my aunt who was living with us at the time. She raised me as her own and became my very best friend. Between her, my grandmother, and my great aunt whom I call grandma, I wanted for nothing, especially not for love. They saw me through the ups and downs of my grief as they rode their own waves, and I’m proud to say that my gratitude never faltered.

Every Mother’s Day for the past fourteen years I have sat in the time I had with my mom, letting the memories surround me. I’ve thought of her fondly as I do every day and have whispered “Happy Mother’s Day” to my angel. Some years I’ve cried, and some years my eyes have stayed dry. Every year I miss her a little extra on this day.

Every Mother’s Day for the past fourteen years I have celebrated the women who stepped up to love me like a mother would, the ones who held me when I cried, nursed me when I was sick, and filled my grief-stricken heart with joy. My aunt who didn’t miss a beat when it came to raising a teenager on her own. My grandmother whose prayers interceded for me innumerable times. My grandma whose fighting spirit always reminded me of my worth. The many other women in my life who did things for me that I didn’t even see, checked in on me, and made me know that I was never alone.

For me, there is no more powerful label than that of “mother”. This label transcends the act of giving birth, and I celebrate every woman who has earned this title – the aunties that go above and beyond, the family friends who always show up, the grandmothers that fill you with light. All of my Mother’s Days are for you. Happy Mother’s Day.