Grief, Impatiens, and a Mother’s Love

Two years ago today I lost my older sister Lori to breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain. I think about her and my younger sister Karlette every single day. Some days are harder than others. The hardest part [besides losing them] has been accepting that nothing could have been done to keep them with us.

I absolutely hate cancer, but what can I do about an enemy that doesn’t fight fair?

What I know about grief is that it does not dissipate. It evolves and we learn to walk with it, allow it to partner with us. It becomes a friend, even, as our hearts mend.

I photographed some fuchsia impatiens a couple of days ago while taking a short break from the computer screen. I transformed one shot to reflect a shade of Lori’s favorite color.  Impatiens are appropriate for today; they symbolize motherly love. Lori loved us all deeply in the various ways that the relationships called for, but today, I think about her sons, the children of her womb. Most of our conversations during her illness were about them. She wanted so much for them.

My prayer is that they recall her voice, her godly character, the values she quietly instilled. My prayer is that they ever feel her love and that all she poured into them fuels and guides them as they move through life.

Summoned Mother | Tameka Cage Conley

All mothers were summoned, when George Floyd called out for his mother. —Rachel Costa

Every mother heard him. We heard George Floyd. We hear him. —Kadiatou Diallo, mother of Amadou Diallo who was murdered by New York City police officers in 1999.

For today’s post on living Black in the United States, I invite you to view a three-part series presented by the University of Iowa Stanley Museum of Art. The project features Dr. Tameka Cage Conley, an artist I initially met many years ago when she was a student–an English major, of course. 😉 I am so very proud of her and her work.

The museum describes the “Summoned Mother” series as:

a memoir of a particular American motherhood: Black and uniquely precarious. This three-volume video series features Dr. Tameka Cage Conley, a literary artist and mother to a six-year-old Black boy, as she responds to George Floyd’s breathless call on motherhood. Conley juxtaposes the works of Elizabeth Catlett with those of contemporary Black poets, bridging the visual and literary arts in a meditation of Black artistry’s longstanding eye on injustice.

Dr. Tameka’s masterful weave of poetry, art, story, and song achingly reaches that primordial place in all mothers that compels us to protect, to rescue, to do something.

The project was spearheaded by Kwadwo Nnuro; the entire series is approximately 42 minutes in length.


About the image: The image that leads today’s post features a favorite photo of my son and me–modified for the post.

Other posts in the “Black Lives Matter” Monday series:

My Mother Taught Me…

If you were paying really close attention, you probably noticed (and then quickly forgot) that I hadn’t posted the postcards I received for Love Notes 22 prompt 3. At first, I hesitated because I wanted to include my partner’s last response in the blog post, but then, I decided the post should wait for Mother’s Day, a perfect time to share responses to the prompt, “My mother taught me…”

Based on postings in the group, the last prompt had many of the participants contemplating deeply the role(s) their mothers played in their lives. For some, this was a painful exercise–because of mothers who were absent, abusive, or deceased. But even then, they acknowledged that they learned something positive from their mothers.

I received four postcards from Love Notes friends in response to the prompt–Christine B, Litsa L., Lisa C., and Eileen V. Eileen’s is earmarked for Father’s Day, but here are the others:

Cape Blanco Light, Port Orford, Oregon

Christine’s mother taught her “to be loving, supportive, and compassionate.” Christine writes, “She’s still teaching me to be positive; that’s been a hard lesson.”

Telephone Booth

When Litsa asked her daughter what she learned from her, her daughter told she taught her “to be kind.” Litsa learned that from her own mother and adds that her mother also taught her resilience: “Just carry on. What else is there to do?”

“Love,” Photo Postcard By Lisa C.

Lisa C’s mother taught her:

There’s only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.

It’s interesting how all three postcards depict images that serve as metaphors for mothers–a light guiding us safely home; just a phone call way; regal in her role as mother doling out love generously.

I  enjoyed this prompt because–in case you haven’t figured out by now–I love talking about my parents. I sent a list letter of ten (plus one) things my mother taught me:

  • Be kind. If you can help a person, do so—no questions asked.
  • Don’t judge. Love people for who they are and don’t expect them to “be like you.”
  • Let it go. Life is too short, so don’t hold a grudge and don’t waste energy on trifles.
  • Hold your head high. You are somebody in this world. Know your worth, even if others don’t.
  • Take it to God. Don’t unload your burdens on mere humans who can’t handle the load.
  • Take time daily for prayer, meditation and scripture.
  • Keep a clean house.  (I’m still working on this one).
  • Always feed the children. Have food, snacks, and treats available for all children who visit.
  • Have your own bank account.
  • Celebrate every birthday.
  • Bonus: There is incredible strength in silence.

It was hard not to write 100 things!

What have you learned from your mother? Let us know in the comments below.

Happy Mother’s Day!