by Irene Daniel
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!! I miss you.
As I honor the 90th anniversary of your birth this 4th of July, I have much good news to report on the progress of our great nation. The Confederate flag is coming down in the American south. Can you believe it, Mom? I wish you had been here with me to watch it on TV, the way we always experienced major historical and political events in our home. I was here in our humble abode, the house I grew up in, watching events unfold just like we always did. I imagined you dancing for joy in that cute little dance you used to do.
I suppose having been born and raised in a segregated Ajo, Arizona, the thought of others experiencing all that ugly "otherness" was just too much for you to bear silently, or without taking notice of the changes being made. You never forgot how much it hurt to have to put up with someone telling you that you are "less than" another, just for being Mexican. It must have made celebrating your birthday a little bittersweet, sharing it with a nation that you honored, but didn't honor you in the same way.
I remember how our entire family gathered around the TV to witness Bloody Sunday, and to listen to the speeches of Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, as well as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in real time during the 1960s. I remember watching JFK and LBJ proclaim the moral abhorrence of treating people differently based upon the color of their skin. I remember you emoting at the television: outrage for segregationists, inspiration at Civil Rights oratory, sobs of sorrow at assassinations, as well as tears of joy at the passage of each Civil Rights Bill in Congress. Maybe that's why I felt so compelled to go to law school. In more ways than one, you made me who and what I am.
And speaking of great oratory, you would have loved the impassioned call to action of our President Obama as he delivered, yet another, eulogy for, yet another, slain martyr for Civil Rights -- 21st century style. It was one of the best speeches I have ever heard, and certainly the best Obama's ever given. It was a sermon. It was Kennedy and King in a new suit, in a new space, in a new -- and much improved -- America from that Ajo of long ago. I pictured you crying tears of joy with me.
And then just last week, Mom, the United States Supreme Court ruled that marriage equality will be the law of the land from this day forward. I am so proud of the way that you evolved on this issue so long ago, and how happy you were at every victory for LGBT rights in the last decades of your life. I am so proud of you, Mom. I am so happy to be your only daughter.
I will always cherish the way you told the story of my birth, of how all your comadres were praying for a girl for you after two boys, because they all knew how much you wanted one. And then the satisfaction when I was delivered by Dr. Tucker, and he said, "There's your girl." I'll always be your girl, Mom. Always. Thank you for loving and praying me into existence.
And thank you for the way that you left this world with dignity, and at peace with your girl. I'm so grateful for the many conversations we had in those weeks before your transition. I remember how desperately I needed your forgiveness and when I asked you for it, you only said, "There is nothing to forgive." This example of grace means more to me now than I even realized at the time. And it really meant a lot then.
I am grateful for the honor of witnessing the last breath you took, hearing the last words you spoke, and watching you drift away, to be received into the arms of our blessed Savior, and reunited with your beloved first-born. I miss you and Gilbert so much these days. You would both be dancing with joy at the manifestation of an America that is now becoming the one of which you both always dreamed.
And so, on Saturday, I will play two songs for you on my piano: "Going Home," to honor your transition; and "Happy Birthday" to celebrate your great life. I will imagine you dancing as I play, just like you used to do. I am listening to 1960s music as I write this, with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks. You are worth every single one of them, Mamacita mia.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I miss you.
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
very nice story Irene, It made me cry tears of happiness for you.
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