She was like my own. The love that I felt-feel for her was strong enough to conjure up the perfect strands of DNA that would link my existence to the wonder of her womb. She taught me soooo much about strength and confidence and courage. She led by example. I formed a relationship with her son in high school, but she was its foundation. Meaning that she prayed for what was to become of us, and loved me without hesitation from the first moment we met. I know it because I could feel it. She saw me, and even when I thought I would never have the opportunity to be her acquaintance, she embraced me with unconditional fondness and genuine love— Love like a Mother’s love is supposed to be. 

I called her “Mommy,” the evolutionary remnant of “Mother Dearest” because she said that the latter phrase reminded her of some crazy movie wherein the mother had killed people. I guess the thought of her being a killer was unbearable, which made sense, because she was more of a builder that a destroyer. She had a soul that announced truth and held back nothing, especially if she was sure about the situation at hand. And although her son always said, “Man, she don’t know what she’s talking about,” she usually always did. She was a faithful sister of the mighty Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. When she wore her crimson and creme, my eyes beheld a sight more eloquent and self-assured than they had ever seen before. And she was the reason I considered pledging just so that I could be her soror. She was outstanding. Everything she had, she worked for it, yet she was self-less. She made sure that her necessities were taken care of first, that meant her family— Albert, Charles, Granny and Gramps Middleton, Auntie Tanya and her husband JB, their kids Carter and Jaylen, and me. I had become fortunate enough to be among the “priorities” in her life, and she among mine. And we each knew this.

There were times when I just wanted to go over her house with Albert just to hear her voice. She spoke with such sophistication and certainty that she made Soap Operas sound as intricate and intellectually charged as any philosophical work that I had ever read. I would lie beside her in her bed—she and I: just the two of us, and read excerpts from romance novels and interpret them. She was an Educator— but not just any educator. She was entrusted with impacting the lives of hundreds of kids daily, while also managing to provide the best resources possible for her own children. She was a counselor who gave me hope and taught me to rid my soul of pride because it would hinder me in ways that I could not yet fathom. She helped me to understand the importance of family and promised that within hers, I would forever have a spot— whether or not Albert and I remained together. And get this, we broke up, and then a year later, I found myself in her bedroom lying beside her as she booked me a Greyhound bus ticket that would secure my arrival back to Babson College after Winter Break. I looked at her, and even the presence of the Ovarian Cancer wasn’t powerful enough to deprive her of her beauty-internal and external. The kind that had put my worries to rest. And she could tell that I was frightened because I was afraid that she was in pain and I couldn’t help. So she did what her heart told her to do, she helped me. It was as if she could read my mind because she told me that I could help her by making an effort to do something that no one in my immediate family had ever done: finish school.

The funny part is that I didn’t even ask her for help. She called me one day and could hear in my voice that I needed a mother’s assistance even though I tried to assure her of this, “I’m fine Mommy.” She just wasn’t buying it. Maybe it was due to the wisdom that she had compiled after having faith for all of those years. She remained steadfast and prayed even though she was a single, once married mother, who was offered little to no assistance from her twin sons’ father. Not that this alone wasn’t enough to give her the title “Queen,” there was something even more spectacular about her that is currently providing consolation for her two sons. 

Albert tried calling me the night she died to tell me, but I must’ve been asleep. I called back and he didn’t answer. When I saw the time of his missed call (12:07 A.M. on Saturday, May 15th), my heart knew, but my soul was too stubborn to accept this notion without confirmation. And then I received it, by accident. Something said, “Skype your best friend.” And I obeyed. He asked me a question that immediately evoked hysterical sobs and ever-flowing tears. He asked me had I heard about Ms. Terri. That was her name. Terri Middleton Brown. And I knew then that she had been called home. I just couldn’t- can’t accept the thought of her being gone from the earth. I never knew how it felt to truly lose a friend until that moment. My heart hurts worse that it has ever hurt before. Because now I’m old enough to understand, and though some would render it immature of me to be so stubborn, I beg to differ. I have the right to feel for a soul who felt for so many. It’s not that I’m caught up in being sad that she is gone, I’m just hurt that she won’t get to directly change the lives of others as she has done mine. However, my pain was offered understanding by her son, Albert. He told me not to worry because of the joy that she implanted in the hearts of sooo many. 

Maybe I’m selfish, but I know I will always be grateful for who she was and who she will always be in my heart. 

Mommy, if you can feel these words somewhere in the universe, send me a signal to let me know that you are ok. Protect me with the wind. Smile on me with the rays of the sun. Instruct me with your whispers as translated perfectly by the trees. Mommy give me a chance to tell you how much I love you again, and appreciate your effect on my being. Mommy give me the opportunity to say 
“Farewell for now, I’ll see you when it’s my time because we are connected for eternity and we will meet again.”

Mommy, may your soul be at rest and your spirit at peace with knowing that your work on earth was not done in vain.

I promise, a piece of you will forever live within me, and the lives you have touched will go on to touch others.

I promise I will always love you.

Forever and always,

Your Friend,

“The Daughter You Never Had”

(But will always have)

❦❦❦Phyl ❦❦❦