My Mother the Hero!

Good day everyone! My countdown begins today, and although there is no particular order to it, I must start with my mother. Today and everyday, I am so very grateful for and blessed to know my mother. Born in the South American country of Bolivia, my mom came to the United States in her late twenties in search of a better life and a better future for her two daughters, my older sisters, whom she left temporarily with our grandmother in Bolivia while she got on her feet in Washington DC. Educated in clerical administration, my mom found work as an executive secretary at the IMF, the International Monetary Fund, and then later at el BID, a Spanish acronym for the Inter-American Bank of Development, in DC. She soon brought her daughters from Bolivia to the States to join her. Another few years later, it was working at el BID that she met my father, and BAAM!! After spending some time dating, Yours Truly was conceived. Unfortunately, for what some would argue are good reasons or not, my mom and dad did not stay together; and that is a story I myself would not come to fully know the details of until just a couple years ago. So then, at the ripe age of 40, my mom began raising me with the help of my two wonderful sisters who were in their teens. For all the drama involved in my coming to existence, there was definitely not a lack of love; and although my mother may not have planned to have a child again that late in her life, I quickly became her joy and her whole world.

My mom didn't have much. Whatever little or greater amount of money she earned was for her daughter's livelihood. She always gave us the best clothes, food, shelter, and education that she possibly could. She took us to church every Sunday and instilled in us a reverence for God that is still very much at the center of our beings. For me, and I'm sure as well as for my sisters, she introduced God to me as a caring Father, not a big bully or distant deity, in efforts to fulfill the void of my biological father's absence. My mom didn't have the best father figure herself, and because of the abuse she suffered as a child, she never had a healthy self image or good self-esteem. But she didn't want that for me. She always told me I could do anything I dared, she always believed in me, and I know deep inside she always dreamed my sisters and I would have a better life than she did. She did have hidden fears that I have only come to understand now as I am experiencing adulthood, but when I was a kid.. she was FEARLESS! One of my favorite memories of her bravery was made when I was around 9 years old. My older sisters got married and up and left when I was just 6 years old, so from then on it was just my mommy and me and my nanny. Any ways, when I was about 9, we lived in a cul-de-sac of town homes, and all of the neighborhood kids including me were outside playing peacefully... when all of a sudden! A creepy man in an older model car pulled into the cul-de-sac and very slowly began driving around and observing the children at play. It was not a friendly stare, but more like a stalker, kidnapper stare LOL! All the mothers quickly started calling their precious children indoors to safe haven. They all secured their doors and proceeded to their windows to watch the eerie culprit as he continued to make his rounds. My mom called me in as well; however, she valiantly stepped into the street in her less than fashionable mu-mu to confront our villain. With outstretched arm and pointed finger, she turbulently scolded the threatening stranger, "What are you looking at you pervert!! Get out of here and don't ever come back!! I'm gonna call the police right now. Stay away from our children!!" The man, obviously alarmed and stunned by this crazy woman's ranting, quickly apologized with wide eyed stutters and left never to return again. Of course, my chest grew and my shoulders lifted as I beamed with pride. All the neighbors looked on with admiration, and I knew I was safe because I had the most courageous mother on the block. Haha!! I will never forget that, and sometimes I think, that on certain occasions, that's how I should take on the hardships of life: with outstretched arm and pointed finger and crazy ranting!

My mom moved us to South Florida when I was 11 years old. I graduated from high school there, and not sure what to do or where to go with my life and my talents, I moved around quite a bit before settling in Los Angeles. My mom went everywhere with me. As my biggest fan, she helped me so much emotionally, spiritually, and most of all financially. She gave me every cent she had, and as a stupid adolescent, I didn't really appreciate it or comprehend the immense measure of her generosity. Now, as I work hard to get ahead, I realize the tremendous sacrifice parents make for their children.. the tremendous sacrifices she made for me... but it was always worth it to her just to see me smile. After we lived in Los Angeles together for about a year, we realized we couldn't afford to live together anymore. She was retired and I was barely starting out. Her needs weren't being met and, at 25, I needed to get my life together and get a career going. She reluctantly and with a heavy heart moved back to live with my sisters and her grandchildren in their comfortable homes, but I know she would have preferred to stay with me. Within a year after she moved, she started to show signs of cognitive illness and, after many tests, the doctors diagnosed her with a rare form of dimentia. My only comfort is in knowing that my sister is right there, 10 minutes away, for anything that my sweet mommy may need. I talk to her on the phone, but it is difficult to communicate with her. Now, if there is any fuel that keeps me going, it is the desire to succeed.. for her... so that all that trust and faith she invested in me won't be disappointed. I know she knows how much I love her, but when things like this happen it is impossible to forget all the moments you wish you could take back. The dumb fights, the disagreements, the unloving times I raised my voice to her in foolish disrespect... all of that I wish I could exchange for expressions of my love, affection, gratitude, and never-ending appreciation for her. If you have read this far, I thank you for taking the time to learn about one of the most priceless beings ever to grace this earth - my mother Mary Jordan. And if you have loved ones that truly mean a great deal to you, don't ever tire of telling them how much you care. As we've all heard over and over again, tomorrow is not guaranteed and in the words of the popular song "Big Yellow Taxi" - "Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone..." and that is a sorry way of living. So count your blessings with me and tell them so. Today and always, I am eternally grateful for the best mother the Creator could have ever given me. I love you mom.