My Final Influence

When I think about the people who have had the most influence in my life, I think of my dad Charles Jackson, my grandmother Jessie Ray, my aunt Clorica Moore and of course my mom Phyllis Jackson. Each of them taught me critical things about life and love. 

I'm a "daddy's girl" through and through. My relationship with my father was one of unconditional love and support. He taught me how to be me; how to love and respect myself and to know that I could do anything I set my mind to do. He taught me to speak my mind, believe in myself and trust my instincts. He embodied the creation of my self-esteem. He died on October 1, 1993 but not before shaping me permanently.

My grandmother was wisdom personified. Our relationship was unique in that as a child she was like my mother, but as an adult she was like my friend. We drank coffee and talked endlessly about love and life. She told me things about her life that she had never shared with any of her children. She could be free with me without constraints, and I with her. She embodied my nurturing side. She died on April 14, 2002. 

My aunt Clo was all about family. She loved, valued and appreciated her parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. I don't know if it was because she never had any children of her own but family was everything. She would get together and barbecue on Flag Day if it was up to her. She united us. She would give her last to anyone in need. She was selfless to a fault. She was very much a second mom to me and our relationship was much more than aunt/niece. She embodied my love for family and my desire to give. She died on December 8, 2008.

And then there's mom. I don't even have the ability to talk about all that mom is to me. She embodies fully helping me to understand and develop my relationship with God, my faith and my strengths. I would do her a disservice trying to write down how I feel about her. I just couldn't do it justice. 

I almost lost her recently. She had surgery and there were complications. Serious ones. I spent 45 minutes in the surgical waiting room thinking that she must have died because they were taking so long and not updating me. I stared down the hall waiting for the surgeon to walk out and tell me that she was gone. But she wasn't. But God.

Then I saw her in the ICU for several day on a breathing machine and I thought she wasn't going to make it through those nights. But she did. I saw her enduring pain that threatened to have her want to give up on life. But she didn't. God has other plans. 

But I am so mindful that it was close. Too close for comfort for me. And I know in my logical mind that she's on the road to recovery but this has been more difficult to process than I have been willing to let on. I don't let on because at the end of the day this isn't about me and maybe I'm just being selfish because I want my mom to live forever.  

But I am being selfish because I want my mom to live forever. 

Because I don't know how to do this without her. I don't even know what "THIS" is but whatever it is, I want her here to give me guidance and advice. To remind me of God's purpose for me. To show me exactly what it means to praise your way through. To help me understand the power of faith, how to count it all joy and how to claim your healing despite the circumstances. To encourage me in my gifts and to let me know again that God has a plan. To preach the house down. To be the mother to the motherless and a friend to the lonely. To claim other women's daughters as her own spiritually and to nurture them through. To be here. 

I am blessed that at nearly 48 I still have my mom, but she's the last one of Those Who Made Me and I'm not ready to let her go. 

"Her children rise up and call her blessed. Her husband also, and he praises her. “Many daughters have done well, but you excel them all.” Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates." Proverbs 31:28-31 

In love, 
Mona