Strength Isn't Always a Storm: An Ode To My Mother

Welp. The Barnes Clan has successfully sent my father, Mr. William Aaron Barnes on his way to his next adventure with style, grace, and with heavy but full hearts.
I do hope there are safaris and airplanes for him to pilot there, where ever that may be....

But you know how there's beauty in everything? Even the dark stuff?  I kinda love that about life. I'm a kind of girl who could be, in my dramatic-like way,  experiencing the end of the world (again), crying and feeling that all is lost, but stop for a moment to look at a lovely moon, a pretty bird, a stunning human.  Because ying and yang are real guys. In the midst of this two week familial journey toward our patriarch's final resting place, there were equal parts sadness and joy.

I mean, I saw bad behavior, and I saw good, humble gestures of compassion. I saw inconsolable tears, I heard roars of laughter. I saw divisiveness, and a coming together.

I saw me struggle through my own journey in this, while simultaneously knowing for sure that all is good and all the time.  I saw friends and family and people just wrap their collective and individual arms around me, making me feel like I am never, not one single moment alone, while not a peep was heard or seen from others. I saw the pain threaten to break some, while seeing it crack others wide open, making them vulnerable and pure in their human-ness.

But I want to tell you the most incredible thing I saw during the last few weeks.
I saw a small lady. A quiet, unassuming lady. A lady who can nurture like Mother Theresa, and cook meals worthy of the Last Supper.

I tell ya I saw this slight woman rise up with the confidence and pride of a Goddess!  I saw this woman who spent her days (every single one of them) caring for her husband like Florence Nightingale, rise up from her grief and with poise, and with pride and with resolve, go through the heart-wrenching business of burying her man of 56 plus years.

I DID NOT see her breakdown.
I did not see her ask for pity.
I did not see her lash out or fall apart.
I did not see her feel sorry for herself.
I certainly did not see her wail, "Why me God!!" Cause she knew shit ain't personal.
Instead, I saw her awaken to each day without her mate by her side, and look life right in the sometimes cruel unfair face, with coffee in one hand, and her clan in the other. She is a warrior not easily beaten.

And while she was doing that, she consoled her children, her grandchildren, her friends, her family, her neighbors and friends.  She held me and patted me on the back as if I had lost something greater than she did. I saw a little sister's head in her lap during the last minutes of the service. She was rubbing her hair, and easing her pain with the touch only a mother can give.

At the funeral I saw her look at the body of her husband for the very last time with total peace.  I lost all composure watching my mother be everything I think of when I imagine a truly strong woman.

Prior to these past few weeks, she was mommy, a good and loving woman, with strength of course (cause it must have taken strength not to wring my neck in my teenaged years), but I didn't imagine this kind of strength.  This is the strength of a leader who knows how to get her people through plagues and famine while frosting a cake or preparing sweet iced tea.

I stared at her a lot. I kept looking, waiting for a chance to care for her in a big way. Waiting to catch her when she fell, waiting to dry the tears from her face.  I kept watching. Waiting to give her something similar to what she had given us all these decades. But she was a soft rock. She was not broken.  Yes, there was the illusion of a slightly bent body but in reality, she was an Amazonian, an African Queen, the Phoenix.  That lady is da shit!! SHE slays!!

My mother amazed me. And I bow down to the absolute Royalty she encompassed during this challenging time.  I've been searching for a model of Grace forever out here in the world. But turns out,  I only needed to see with different eyes the woman in the kitchen over there on West Third Avenue.... I only needed to recognize Mrs. Mary Elizabeth Barnes for ALL that she is.
Who knew???

Strength isn't always a storm but often 
the gentle breeze that quietly cleans our air. 

Thanks for reading....