A Valentine's Post for My Mom

I've heard it tell that Valentine's Day is not just for romantic love, but a day where we can show love and appreciation for everyone who holds a special place in our hearts.

My mom also means the world to me, she has sacrificed a lot to raise me, overcoming a lot of odds including financial constraints and poverty, to contribute to my growth and success, and so today, even as I spend time with my partner, I am going to dedicate this post to her and share some of the gems she taught me about love.

Love is selfless and enduring

My mom taught me that even when you love and lose, you cannot simply fall out of love because true love is eternal.

My parents were young lovers. They met when they were teens and started a family when they did not have a full appreciation for the responsibility of adult living. Neither my mom nor my dad were truly mature, and eventually, as young adults, my dad broke my mom's heart.

Even though my parents separated, my mom loved my dad still.

My dad started another family and he and my mom fell out of touch, but whenever my mom spoke of him, her eyes would glaze over with sadness and nostalgia.

My mom knew of my dad's other wife, even met her, and was unfailingly polite, even though her heart must have broken just to say hello. When my dad had other children with his new wife, my mom bore the pain with a smile, inquired politely about my half brothers and sisters' wellbeing, and when she met them, she was kind and welcoming and always gave them the best advice.

When I grew up and asked my mom about her separation from my dad, she said to me:

"We were young when we came together, and when we grew apart, I didn't want our family to be separated. I loved your father, I still do. But love is not selfish, and when we came to that crossroads where he was in love with someone else and wanted to be free, I chose to sacrifice what I wanted for his happiness."

Years later, when my dad passed away, my mom held me close and cried, her tears mixing with mine.

Love sees past imperfection

As a longsuffering parent, loving me through my storms, my mom taught me that love is not just a performative act but that it has true weight and substance, and by loving me when I was most unlovable, she taught me to truly see and love others through their imperfection and to encourage them to strive to be their best selves.

Love is strength, and you cannot love someone else if you do not love yourself.

There was a moment during my adolescence when I felt unworthy of life. It was a murky and depressing period where I was very volatile. For my mom, working with me through those dark days must have been hell, but she stood steadfast. She called me her rose and told me that I was beautiful but that I couldn't see my petals because I was focused only on thorns. She said that love and hate cannot occupy the same space and so they cannot co-exist in one heart because positivity will always drive out negative energy, and she reminded me to begin each day with thankfulness.

"Nurture a spirit of love and gratitude just for being," she said. "And that spirit will grow."

Today, on Valentine's Day, this is a poem about growing up with my mom.

Could be Angels

Our last home was so huge, we had hundreds, thousands of disorganized painters moving in with us uninvited, painting criss-crossed lines on wooden walls and leaving thank you hills of old lady's sugar in their wake.

And when the rains fell, our tenants rose on black wings to form clouds around our home, locking us in.

But when I complained, my mama said, for God's sake, be thankful for your shelter.

And more than just words of thanks, my mama went further,

Because our house of cards often provided cover

For strangers

Who, she said, could be angels.

In our last home, we had antique furniture.

We sat together on chairs made from tin someone once used to store biscuits in,

Ate candle warmed eggs and wrapped hands around enamel cups

Where chocolate drops made of rust

Adorned the top of our tea.

And before we could take a bite or drink a sip

Mama led us in prayer

Because she said,

Be thankful for the food you eat.

And more than words of thanks whispered in fervor,

Mama went further

And like loaves of bread and fishes,

She fed everyone who passed by and said, I'm hungry.

Because, she said, they could be Angels.

For years, in our last home, the only electricity we knew came from the stars

And when night fell, I'd sit in the front of our home and

Look at bright windows winking afar,

And I'd wish that the children behind those walls were me.

And I'd never understand my Mama when she said,

Never mind material things, we are wealthy.

My mama said, too much light can be blinding,

Sometimes you need darkness to sharpen your eyes to see.

And sometimes you need to experience material poverty

To understand what it is to be spiritually wealthy.

Today, even when we are far apart- Mama and I- and I am in the company of friends

I can hear my Mama's voice- still, small, wearing the cloak of my conscience,

Reminding me that it is not always subconscious, but sometimes a self taught and enforced discipline to think and act selflessly...

To think not of others, but always of the ever wider we.