Written by: Admin_SheEvo
To all the times I took her for granted!!!
Growing up, I had always felt a little out of place, a little offbeat compared to the polished lives I saw around me. Other girls had lives that seemed to run on straight paths, like highways with clear exits, well-marked signs, and promises of destinations. Mine felt like a winding dirt road full of twists, lined with wildflowers that Mama said were weeds. “Don’t let them fool you,” she would say, pulling me close, “they’re tougher than they look, and sometimes the prettiest things don’t come from the easiest places.”
I never understood why Mama tried so hard. I thought she was holding herself to impossible standards. And maybe, on some level, she was. But looking back now, I realize she was teaching me the strength of survival and the beauty of resilience, even if it meant sacrificing herself in ways I never quite understood.
As a young girl, I didn’t see the sacrifices she made. I saw her hands; they were always busy and moving. I saw the sleepless nights, the tear-stained cheeks she tried to hide behind her gentle smile, the way she’d clean up the broken pieces of every little disaster I’d cause. To me, Mama was invincible. She was fierce, unbreakable—a warrior in her quiet way. But now, after a life-changing event, I’m beginning to understand how much of that strength came at a price.
It took a heart attack to bring me to this point, to see life as the fragile, fleeting thing it truly is. When the doctor said “heart attack,” I laughed like it was an involuntary response to the absurdity of it. I didn’t feel strong, and I didn’t feel brave. All I felt was a gnawing fear. I thought of Mama, of how she might look at me with those eyes that always saw too much, that knew the weight of suffering but carried it with a dignity I never managed to imitate. And for the first time, I truly wondered what she would say if she knew just how much of her I had taken for granted.
I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive myself for the mistakes and pain I’ve caused. But I know I can keep trying and honour Mama’s memory by living a life that reflects her values, strength, and compassion. I can strive to be the person she believed I could be, even if I fall short. Ultimately, I realize that Mama’s love was her greatest gift to me. It was her legacy, her unspoken promise that I was worth fighting for, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
She tried, in every way she knew how, to show me what it meant to be strong, resilient, and whole. And though I may have taken her for granted and failed her in ways I’ll never fully understand, I know I can carry her lessons forward and live a life honouring her spirit. I will keep going for Mama, myself, and all the people I have yet to love. I will fight the battles worth fighting, let go of the ones that aren’t, and strive to live a life that reflects the lessons she taught me.
Mama tried, and now, so will I.
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