To My Songbird

We’re from the Motor City: Detroit, Michigan; but we're built Holt Tough. Four children, who have matured into adults, under your tutelage. My Mommy, the strongest woman I know, born on Christmas Day, 1956. You spoke your mind and had courage a million, in all you put your hands to. You gave me the courage to become a lifelong learner, as I read your college sociology books to you in the second grade, so you could get a better understanding of what you had studied for hours already and take notes. You had dyslexia but you never let that hold you back from reaching for your dreams and pushing your children to excel toward theirs. Even when others thought you couldn't or shouldn't pursue your dreams, you talked very little and always shocked your naysayers with your results. You often called me your "Rock" because I remained solid no matter what and never stepped back from telling you the truth. This is the strength you gave me raised me to have and stand with.

I always prayed with you and for us all. At the young age of four, you encouraged the ministry of Christ to grow in me through song. Watching you rehearse and sing with our church choir is where I loved to be. You were my Christmas songbird, directing and singing, leading others to Christ while working in the sanctuary, soup kitchen, or food pantry. You never met a stranger, you always had a smile, encouraging words, or a plate for whoever you met. They became lifelong, multi-cultural friends, who came and went from your kitchen table. Being our only parent, you worked harder than any person I know, sometimes taking on two jobs and running a catering business just to make ends meet. Somehow, you still found time to remember to bring us breakfast every Saturday morning after you worked your Friday midnight shift at Grandma's restaurant.

I remember vividly, how Grandma called to tell us that you and she were robbed as you walked her home from bible study and how you chased the gunman, not because of the money in your wallet, but because our birth certificates just happened to be in your purse that day. Mommy got her purse back with everything in it, too. I was scared beyond belief to hear that, but at the same time proud of you for standing up for us. You always defied the odds, until the day your heart stopped. You were talking shortly before you passed about going back to school to become a social worker to help others. I even ordered your High School Diploma as a late birthday gift, so that you could become a peer recovery specialist through the Urban League to help others with addiction and recovery.

Oh, My Songbird, what I wouldn't give to hear you sing your prayers, embrace you in a great hug or just watch a Law and Order weekend marathon with you. You were the epitome of tough in a single mother, just trying to make a way for her children to grow safely in a good home and community. You tried to make every community you inhabited better. It's been two months since you've been gone now, everything’s different since you flew away. There's still so much Mommy we had to talk over. I want to ask about raising your granddaughters, how to make it through my impending 40's with grace like you did! Better yet, I want to know how to deal with the most important part of my heart now missing: YOU! I know I'll have to allow the Lord to answer these questions as I continue on my earthly journey, without you right here to guide me. This is my homage to you Baby Ann, stronger than Graphene as my Sister, Friend, Confidant, Mentor, and Mother. You're always in my heart, Songbird.