Hey Momo, I love you! That's the first thing i would say to you. I love you and I miss you! It's been a month since you went home. And as much as I wish to be there by your side, I got to see you smile and make you laugh one more time before you went.

When I think of one woman that has changed my life, it has been my Grandma. This is a lady that would put up with everything from my Grandpa screaming "Woman! Get me a sandwich." to grandkids coming to her house just for some cookies and a talk at the kitchen table.

On the night of March 10th, 1945, seventy German prisoners of war escaped from the Island Farm POW camp in Bridgend, South Wales. It was the largest breakout on British soil during World War Two, and has been dubbed "The Welsh Great Escape". A tunnel had been dug by the inmates from Hut 9 in the camp to a field outside of the boundary. At 04:00 the next morning the escape attempt came to an end when a German officer was caught exiting the tunnel by a guard. What followed was a nationwide man-hunt that saw all the escapees recaptured within a week.

My story of who I looked up to all my life was my GRANDmother Mary Whitley she was a wife and mother of two one boy and one girl .

There were many times in my life when I came across the question of who my hero was. The question would shift and change but it always meant the same. Who Inspired me? Who was molding and shaping me into the woman I would become? I would ponder and yet I always saw the answer. The sweet eyes and quiet strength of my grandmother was an image that would appear in my mind. As I grew up, I understood womanhood and what it means to have passion from what I consider, my other mother. I know that the question of who my inspiration was had only been my conscience not wanting to feel guilty. I was raised by my father and my mother was still present in my life. I chose to ask myself the question even though I always knew.

She was divorced from an abusive crack addict, a single mother. 2 of her biological children had serious mental health issues, her oldest son schizophrenic, her only daughter bipolar. I remember the one and only time I saw her cry. It wasn’t when her own mother who she’d taken care of all my life had died, it wasn’t when her father had died, it wasn’t when I told her I didn’t want her love but that I wanted my mom. Her tears covered her face after her children tried to kill each other outside our apartment. I remember them (my mother and my uncle) screaming at her that it was her fault their father had become addicted to drugs, that it was her fault he left. My uncle drenched in his own blood because my mother hit him with her van at 30 miles per hour, stood screaming profanities at the woman who did her best to raise him on her own. My mother still in risqué clothing from her exotic dancing job, stood screaming at her mother that she had ruined them, that she alone was the cause of everything wrong in their lives. I could tell by the pain I can still hear in her mourn, that she believed that. My grandmother was a tough woman. She was born from a 14 year old little girl who’d had 7 children total. My grandmother being the oldest diligently strived to assist with the care of all 6 of her siblings. She never heard “you’re beautiful” or “I’m proud of you”. So she never did use those words with any of her children. She told us that life was unfair and that people will likely always take your hard work and genuine nature for granted. She’d quote my favorite Mother Theresa quote telling us to “do it anyway”, and to ” do all things as if your doing them for God”. But she didn't just say those words, she lived by them. She only had 2 friends and each of them refered to her as the best friend they ever had. My grandmother worked as a nurse after she adopted my siblings and I. She worked 3 jobs, took us to Bible study 3 nights a week, ministry once a week, family Bible studies were regular almost daily. We were allowed to talk about how we felt. No matter how embarrassing or scary she would always listen. She never took a dime from either of our parents after she saved us from sexual and physical abuse, even calling the police on her own son even though that broke her heart. She built a home for us and got us out of that ghetto apartment out of the sweat on her brow. And she did it alone. When my mom went to prison I was bitter and I lashed out on her often blaming her just as my mother had. But she held space for me. She was still housing her 2 sons, had rehabilitated 6 children who were told they’d never be able to walk or talk and she was sending money to her daughter in prison. Many times I remember her words of wisdom. Her patience, her resolve to never, ever give up on the people she loves. ”Where there’s life there's hope” she says. I am beyond blessed to have had such an unshakable, powerful, beautiful woman raise me and if I do nothing else right in my life I ”hope” I can show her how proud I am to call her my grandmother, the woman who raised me.

A better woman I’ve never known, since day one my love has grown. Her smile infectious, her wisdom unbound, a more beautiful lady will n’er be found.

Whenever I think about calling you, I still tear up. Taking my phone out, scrolling to your name, just to end up reminding myself that your not going to answer. I feel as if I've been walking around in a fog. Not much time has passed, but I still want to believe that one day you'll call me. We spoke sometimes for hours, just about things happening in the world, family members, things that happened in general, day to day stuff, and your views on them. Although I have been one of few words, you still wanted to hear them. You would ask questions, and maybe throw a few jokes in, just to brighten the mood. No matter how much time we would spend on the phone, it always made me laugh when it was time to get off the phone. You would simply say bye, and hang up. That was just the way you hang up the phone. Anyone that spoke to you, knew that was your thing.

The beginning -

the beginning -

so my grandma is the woman who has inspired me to do great things. She is my bestfriend whom I tell all my problems to, what I did wrong, my goals, my thoughts/feelings, basically everything. So let me just start on tell you about her. She’s the sweets and kind hearted lady you’ll ever meet. She’s loves everyone and trys to help out everyone as much as she can even if she doesn’t know them at all. She’s the best listener, even if she has other opinions she’ll always listen. She has picked me up when I was going through hard times, when I wanted to end it all. She taught me how to keep my head up above the clouds, reach for my goals even if I feel as if they were too hard to get too. She has lifted my spirits and others in time of sadness. She is the strongest woman, she has stepped in front of guns, been threatened, had her cars set on fire, shot at, and still stayed kind and gave money to people even if she didn’t have it, fed my friends and took them in because they didn’t have food or anywhere to stay. She’s my superhero I’ve never seen someone so empowering her mind is beautiful as she is. She never judges me, tells me the truth, she’s my mom even if she didn’t give birth to me. She’s helped me through so much even when my mom kicked me out, let her boyfriend talk shit to me, abuse and damage me emotionally. She was right there to the rescue to help me telling me to day the good days with the bad. It’s only a bad day not a bad life, just take it day by day it’ll get better and it has because she was there loving me. Even if she couldn’t be there I could call her and rant to her telling her how I’m feeling, the best listener who keeps my secrets, the one I trust the most. I probably wouldn’t be here without her, she makes me laugh, such a goofy lady, always smiling and laughing. Going out her way to help and inspire others. She’s a lady who works for a school deals with kids who are so rude to her, helps them out, keeps them out of trouble and gives the most chances to everyone after doing her wrong. So to me she’s the woman that imspires me that through it all, the ups and downs, the good and bad days, all the crappy things that happen in life, to always stay happy and positive and good things will come in time.

I remember the way she rolled her hair into a perfect low bun ready for the days work. I remember her slightly coarse and callused hand as we walked together. I remember the lines on her forehead when she was cross or upset because I didn’t come back home in time for lunch. These are my memories, senses and lingering moments of the woman who continues to inspire me everyday.