DEAR MAMA (1987)

Dear Mama, 

16 and pregnant. I understand why you hid it from your parents for as long as you could. Your own childhood memories riddled with drugs, raging alcoholics, violence. Racism. You knew they’d be livid that you’d soon give birth to a little mixed girl. 

But you chose motherhood, still. What a blessing it was to end up at that alternative school that had a daycare on site where you could balance growing up, being a teenager and a mama. Thank God for your grandma, Merle Jane. My earliest childhood memories are at her little white house in Oklahoma City, the only real memory of safety, being a carefree kid and being around a sober adult. That’s probably why my favorite picture of you was taken in her house. 

We always hear about the crack epidemic in the 80s but it caught you in the early 90s. The weight of growing up too fast, with your own trauma, rejection in your dysfunctional family, abusive relationships and the responsibility of 5 kids by the age of 23. We all remember that one day that our lives were forever changed. Yours, your kids and the family members that became our new legal guardians. 

I know you didn’t plan for us to end up in that foster care center. The drugs got a hold of you and you didn’t think a few days of leaving us with a friend would trigger that unrepairable chain of events. I was 7 and the oldest of us 5. I remember staring out the rainy window seal in the middle of the night hoping you’d pop up to come get us. Each day we were there they would put out boxes of clothes that we could all pick from and I would grab outfits for all of us. Eventually, me and the baby would move to Tulsa with your dad and the other 3 would stay in OKC with their dad. Our new normal for the rest of our childhoods. 

I know that for 10 long years, addiction had you. You still tried to get us back and find ways to be in our lives. Knowing that our new homes weren’t picture perfect for any of us either. More childhood trauma from seeing drug use, abuse, violence. Living in projects, roaches all around, barely getting by. Visiting you in jail throughout the years. You experienced relapse after relapse, even while having 2 more kids and losing them also. The generational curse of drug and alcohol addictions runs the deepest here. Still to this day, those battles are heavy throughout this entire family. 

But I forgive you. And I hope you forgive yourself too. You really did what you could with what you had and what you knew. You never had custody of me again but I remember you making sure I had prom dresses, senior pictures. Taking me to the hardest doctor’s appointments. Helping me drive to Houston for college visits. I was hyper independent but you were 10 toes down if I needed it and you could. My high school sisters love them some Mrs. Misti. I remember being grown and sick in Houston and always calling you crying because “I just wanted my mama”. I see you now working to maintain grandma relationships amongst your 14 grandkids. And when each of your adult kids have had struggles over the years, you’ve again tried to help with what you have to give. 

At this big age of 38, my therapist and I agreed to dive deep into my childhood healing, into all the shit I have suppressed and blocked out. Although I know it was hard for you to journey backwards, I’m grateful you agreed to walk me through my life timeline from your point of view. I need to remember and I’m starting to. 

Your 55th is knocking on the door. God saved you so many times, girl. Saved your kids too. I hope you find joy in all the blessings of life every single day. I meant what I said about the dentist, that can be your birthday gift. You’ve lived a hard, hard life mama. You deserve a smile that you can look in the mirror and love. 

SHANELL LYNN

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