She Was An Immigrant Mother
In your early twenties, to leave a country you’ve known since birth. Putting aside the fear of the unknown.
Learning to take a chance that will make or break you, in the midst of evolving into womanhood and working to figure out the woman you were becoming.
Love, laughs, heartbreaks you’ve endured. Baring 4 fetuses that you nurtured and fearlessly protected.
Enduring the loss of the queen who bared you and your sister. Knowing life’s responsibilities held you hostage from seeing your mother in her final days.
Spending hours commuting on public transit with the little human lives you carried to get then to school as you scurry off to work and rush to make the same trip in reverse later in the evening. All the while making sure you got them settled in the public housing unit that was ‘home’ and making sure dinner was on the table.
Realizing you wanted more. You wanted more for you kids even when they didn’t understand what you were preparing them for. Working hard to obtain what some may refer to as “The American Dream”. You purchased your first home. Something you owned. A safe space for your family.
Selflessly working tirelessly to raise enough funds to have family supports join you in your new country where you became a citizen. All of that while teaching them about life and America and self sufficiency.
You were put through the ringer. You were tried. You prayed. You persevered. You believed there was more awaiting you on the horizon.
You were the victor in situations where many would perceive you as the victim.
You taught your kids so much about discipline, hard work, and loyalty through your actions. The importance of remaining together as a family. You didn’t care what others thought. You knew what you were doing with your kids. You knee the kind of kids you wanted to raise.
You’re infectious personality draws people in.
Putting your kids through school. Working numerous jobs at a time because you wanted to provide your kids with a chance to succeed. Purchasing their clothing at Ames and Bradlee’s. Listening to them complain about having to wear Payless shoes. Fiscal responsibility superseded the material things. As it should.
You became grandma. Disciplining kids went out the window and you put on your ‘fun’ shoes. Your eyes almost sparkle when you see your grandchildren. A sparkle so bright it makes your own kids jealous. Calling your kids to bring over your grandkids for the weekend when your off because that is ‘your time’ and pretty much an unwritten and unspoken custody agreement you’ve created.
Fear, Anxiety. Chuckles. Tears. Gratefulness. Sorrow. Understanding. Compassionate.
She was an immigrant mother. She is my mother.