I finally exit the sanctuary, the sound of my footsteps echo along the church steps. I find Adam waiting for me by the door; he tries to up-lift my feelings with a smile full of encouragement. However, I can see his eyes flash a sense of sorrow and pity. I know this is his way of trying to hide his true feelings, and as I come closer he embraces me in a tight and soothing hug.
I feel like this might be might be for the best. I’ve always felt as though we were just more stress for her worn out soul, and I begin to pity her. My whole life seemed a selfish act against her. I know that when she struck me it was for the best; so I could be the best. I pull apart from my brother. I won’t allow him to keep me from my new dream in life. To find victory; to continue to grow.
I take my time getting back to my now-empty home. I replay my life and try to think of success without my mother. When I get home finally everything seems so silenced; there is no longer the sounds of the kitchen lit up and alive, or the television blasting reality shows throughout the house. My home just seems dead. I just choose to sit and wait until I begin to drift away and into a nice and long sleep. I dream of my mother’s loving smile and how she would remind me that there was always a better option.

Right then and there did my cellphone’s ringtone fill the air, “Hello?” “Shawntavia, is that you?” I release the breath I was holding. Here she is, my biological mother, Gertrude, who made the decision that drugs and her boyfriend were more important than my siblings and I. “May I help you?” my voice cracks at the end of my sentence. I would rather not speak to her, especially not at this moment; I don’t need her trying to replace the only true mother I had. “I wanted to talk to you about-.” I cut her off,”How did you get this number?” unfortunately for her I didn’t realize how harsh my tone of voice until the words escaped my lips and rolled off my tongue. There is a silence, as if Gertrude feels as though I had struck her through the phone.
After a minute or two I have to check to see if the phone is still connected. She finally continues like she had written a speech that she had prepared for me. “Shawntavia,” “I go by Lauren,” I have to cut her off once again, seemingly frustrated, “Lauren,” she makes sure she emphasizes my name,” I apologize for what I did to you, I need you to understand that I have changed.” When she pauses the anger inside of me becomes manifest, “I don’t want to hear it! You did this to me, you made that decision. How could you? Did you really, and truly believe that you could give me one miserable apology and all would be forgiven?’’ I pause and let out a long and exaggerated breath. I begin once more, praying I can keep an even tone as I speak, “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
I can hear her weeping quietly and suddenly feel disgusted by her. She regains her courage and begins, “Your father, biological father, has been injured in a shootout.” I begin to laugh at how ghetto his situation seems to be, and trying as hard as I might not to feel sorrow for her. Then I remember clearly how she was pregnant with me, and she had told him, Tashaun, who was in jail at the time, that it was his child. Of course, being the “thug” that he wanted to be, denied us both, forcing her to find a new man, also known as Fred. I can’t help but be perplexed at the same time by her new situation. So then I ask, “why do you continue to put yourself through this?” I hear her exhale, “Because I love him,” she replies. I release a dry laugh and shake my head slowly, wishing she could see me, “Do you even know what love is?” I give her a moment to contemplate an answer and get her thoughts together. Finally she begins to answer my question, “love is…”, I knew it, this old woman couldn’t know what love was even if it hit her in the face. She decided to neglect her family, me and my older siblings, in her thirties, she had no chance of blaming her decisions on being a love sick teen. I feel tears descending my cheeks before I notice that I had the urge to cry. When I begin my voice cracks and u myself before I can get my words across. “You have some nerve, you know that? You only taught me to allow men to walk all over me, and to use my body as they please. Not only that but you also decided to avoid suffering the consequences, and you let him, a man whom wasn’t even my father, do as he pleased with us, your own children. Thanks to you I am afraid I won’t ever allow myself the chance to marry, and if I do and bring forth children, stay away from us. I want you to have no part in their lives or even mine. We only share the same DNA, and Gertrude, quite frankly, I want nothing more from you.” Out of my pit of anger I disconnect from our call. Finally, the silence I deserve. She calls back 5 more times before she decides to give up. I only hope no to regret it later.

As I dream I remember a time when I wanted all conflict in my family to end. Little did I know in order for that to happen I would have to stop being the cause. I wanted everything to be handed to me, so ungrateful as I was, I became so dependent on others that I forgot how to depend on my own self for success. Then the day Adam decided to return to his biological mother had it struck me that actions always affect another. Never will there be a time where everyone will benefit a decision. It is in our human nature of being that we suffer the sin from around us.
I wake up unsatisfied at the thought that my laziness is the only thing in the way of me and reaching my goal. Perhaps I should pay closer attention to what I say and what I do. Perhaps that should mean that I should apologize but not make the same mistakes once again. Try something new, and ready myself for my own future. Today is the day I will continue my life. I force my body out of bed and lollygag to the bathroom. Suddenly I feel something furry against my ankles and scream while I lung backwards. On the tile of my bathroom I find my mother’s favorite robe around the area my ankles once were. I bend down to grab it and tears fill my eyes, and fall against my trembling hands. Her scent still lingers on its comforting cotton. I begin to cradle it as my sobs fill the air.
I feel some faint body embrace my own. I hear my mother’s voice fill my ears and open my heart, “Baby girl it will be okay, I will forever stay in your heart. Continue to grow my beautiful child, I will always love you.” And on that last word my mother seemed to slowly fade away. My beautiful mother, my angel. At this point I must wipe my eyes and begin because life goes on, and time waits for no one. By the time I’m ready to go out the door, I’m about ready to go right back to bed. It takes me quite a while to get into the car, finally I just decide to go and talk to one of my longtime friends, John Jackson. I call, and thankfully he answers the phone on the third ring, “Hello?” my voice sounds childish when it reaches my ears. “Lauren, is that you? Are you okay?!” John seems to be panicking and it only makes me laugh ever so slightly. I respond with, “I’m fine; I was just wandering if you could meet with me and talk about something, like we did when I was ages younger.” It doesn’t take him long to respond with an “Of course we can.”
In an hour or so I find myself at his doorstep in an outfit I find quite comfortable, and I trust him with the sight of skin above my knees. When he answers the door he embraces me, sensing that I’m upset. As he leads me to his living room, which he has already filled with exciting treats, he asks “What’s wrong?” We get comfortable on his couch when I tell my story, with detail from beginning to end, and of course, he listens intently. He embraces me once more and places a soft kiss above my right eye. He leans backwards and puts on a movie, a comedy that he knows that will make me smile, John always seems to know what to say and do.
During the movie I realize that I am keeping him from his job and I apologize, ready to leave, but he stops me, always so modest, that he called in sick already, so I have the whole day to grieve with me. After convincing me, we sit back down and finish the movie and he looks me in my eyes with a very serene expression on his face. “Lauren, you know life isn’t a game, lessons must be learned and risks must be taken in order to survive. Life isn’t just a walk in the park, and I don’t want to see you cry, but I’m also not going to be the one to lie to you. What you said and how you treated your mother isn’t something you should be unapologetic about, think of it this way, Jesus forgave us didn’t he? What gives you the right to not do the same to the woman who gave you life, whether it was an accident or not it happened and you’re here. There is nothing you can or could do to change that. You must accept it.” He pauses and gives me time let his words sink in. I release a long overdue breath and say “You’re right, but what shall I do now?” He shrugs, “What do you think you should do?” Implying that I should probably call her and apologize.
The next thing I know Gertrude has answered her phone and I have John holding my hand to encourage my next couple of words. “Gertrude, you are my mother, and without a doubt I disrespected you the other day, and I apologize for that.” She doesn’t respond, which makes me uneasy, and then finally as if she read my thoughts she replies with, “I understand, but I have to go.” And before I have the chance to dismiss myself she hangs up, which makes my body begin the tremble and tears fill my eyes, “She doesn’t love me” I repeat over and over. John dismisses these statements and embraces me; rocking me back and forth he whispers to me that this is what my mother would have wanted and that she love me. And before he gets up to get a tissue for me, he looks me in my eyes and tells me to go bed and that I could stay with him for the night.
This thought perplexes me until I realize that either way I would’ve been late to work because it was already nightfall. I ask if he could talk to me until I drift to sleep. When we comfortable once again he plays a movie and we begin to talk and laugh about how I acted when I was younger. We reminisce on the days I would always run to him and tell him all of my secrets, as if he was my own diary. We even laugh about the days I had to learn how to use the word “love” carefully. I seem to get my mind off the things that have been bothering me for a little while. Before John begins a new conversation I call Adam to see if he is holding up well, when he answers his voice is deep and a little hoarse, as if he was crying a while ago. We talk and I tell him about how other mother was a great leader, and did many great things to sacrifice for us.
Before our conversation ends he tells me he wishes to apologize to her for the pain he caused her when he made her suffer because he wanted to go and live with his biological mother. We pray before we get off the phone.
“Dear God, here we are grieving for our mother. We apologize for our sins and want you to keep our mother in your forgiving and merciful hands. We can do all things through you God, and we will continue to praise and thank you Lord. You have given us a breath that shall not be wasted. Please keep our mother close to you in Heaven Lord, and close to our hearts. Amen.”