May has always been my favorite month. Since childhood, I have waited through April showers in anticipation of May flowers. The month of May presents both the end of Spring and the beginning of Summer break, giving Mississippians a special season all our own wherein the temperature is blissfully warm enough for Summer activities without being too hot. The grass is green and the flowers are blooming, yet the oppressive heat and humidity are mostly held at bay. You can actually lay out by the pool or go out on the Reservoir without feeling like you are melting. May is a beautiful month for hiking and picnicking by day, listening to the frogs and crickets in the evening, and star-watching at night. May is the month of our family’s annual beach trip and, of course, the month we celebrate mothers. This May will still be all of those lovely, sunny things, but, as I face my first Mother’s Day without my mother, this will also be a gray May.

As May approaches, a thousand emotions keep entering my heart, but a single word keeps
coming to mind –mama. The word “mama” is the same or similar across the world and in most languages. While its origins may stem from baby babble, the word “mama” (for those of us lucky enough) conjures up words like warmth, safety, and unconditional love.

Mama had a way with words.

Speaking of words, my Mama sure loved to use them. As a child, I saw her as a beautiful social butterfly. She would flitter around the room at a party or outside the church sanctuary, stopping to talk to each person. I would hide behind the skirt of her dress, shy and quiet, but watching in awe as she laughed and spoke to everyone with ease. When I was a teenager, sometimes all of Mama’s talking would embarrass me. She never met a stranger. On a shopping trip, my cheeks would grow red as Mom chatted up any and every cashier as if they had known each other forever.

I also watched Mama use her words for good during those years. She talked my siblings and me through many hard times, always knowing just what to say, and she did the same for many of our friends. As much as Mom loved talking, she knew how to keep a secret. I have friends who only confided in me now as adults how much my mom’s words helped them when we were younger.

Mom also used her words to go to bat for her kids or anyone she saw in need of help. Whether as PTA president or giving someone an earful if they crossed a line, her mama bear side would kick in when needed. Mom was always good at words of reassurance, too. Good heavens, she could build you up with her words! I could look my absolute worst and she’d swear I looked amazing, genuinely pointing out the beauty she saw. While she was good with words, she often didn’t even need them. It was her presence, her hug, her back tickles, or her reassuring smile that said more than words ever could.

A mother always giving to others.

As the years passed, Mom wasn’t as social as she used to be. Our family devoured all her time and energy…be it planning for, cooking at, and cleaning after family get-togethers or keeping her grandkids. She continued to use her voice, though –for singing to her grandchildren or reading them stories. She also used written words for things she was passionate about, especially God and His word. For years, she would send out daily devotions to extended family and friends.

She was our favorite weather woman, sending us emails and texts to start each day with a forecast update, including her cautious phrases like “wear layers” or “be careful”. As good as Mom was with words, she was also a great listener. For nearly my entire adult life, I called and talked to her every day.

As so often is the case with mothers, my mom was my best friend –even if I was not always hers. Mom gave, created, and cultivated an incredible one-sided friendship.

I would call her to vent, cry, or just blab about my day, my work, my problems, my kids, my life, but Mom rarely did the same. She listened and she advised. She was my biggest cheerleader, a true best friend, with no requirement or expectation of reciprocation. She was that for each of her three kids every single time we called her, and we called her often. And even though Mom surely grew weary of the calls from time to time, she always made time to talk.

In April 2020, when Mom started getting off the phone with us faster, we knew it wasn’t like her. She had missed her family so much since the Covid quarantine began just the month before. We were social distancing in an effort to keep Mom and Dad safe. We saw signs Mom was acting differently, but we assumed the change in her personality and decrease in chattiness was due to missing her grandbabies and feeling depressed. Then, my dad said, “Your mom isn’t talking much, and YOU KNOW that isn’t like her.”

One gray day in May

On a beautiful day during the first week of May 2020, Dad walked into the kitchen to find Mom, seemingly dazed and holding a knife in one hand and a lemon in the other. Mom couldn’t remember why she was standing there or what she had planned to do with that lemon. She was having trouble even speaking. Dad was alarmed. Had Mom had a series of strokes? Was this early Alzheimer’s or some form of dementia? Dad guided Mom to the car and they headed to St. Dominic’s emergency room wherein Mom was ultimately diagnosed with a glioblastoma (“GBM”), the most common but most complex, treatment-resistant, and deadliest type of brain tumor.

Things progressed quickly from there and we learned a lot over the next few days and weeks. Mom no longer acted like herself. Her tone was different. Her affect was flat. We no longer heard her normal cheery voice, and she no longer sang or read to the grandkids. Mom did not express much emotion, and she frequently had trouble finding the right words. Yet, in true Mom fashion, she still found a way to say a lot. You see, my Mama did not get diagnosed with brain cancer any ole time but did so during the month of May, which is brain tumor awareness month.

A philanthropist’s mission

Raising awareness about brain cancer was something near and dear to Mom’s heart as our
family lost our precious Natalie –Mom’s great niece– to Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (“DIPG”), the deadliest childhood brain cancer, on October 11, 2019. Natalie was only 15 years old, and as the Lord would have it, my mom was there in the room as Natalie took her last breath. When Natalie died, Mom’s heart was broken. Mom hurt for her sister, Natalie’s grandmother. Mom cried for her niece, Natalie’s mother. We all ached for their entire family, but Mom’s health seemed to be fine at that time. None of us could have ever imagined it possible, but seven months after Natalie died due to a brain tumor, my sweet Mama, on the beautiful and sunny first week of May 2020, was also diagnosed with a brain tumor.

Five months, countless doctors, several treatments, two surgeries, and one long hospital stay later, Mom, like Natalie, passed away due to her brain tumor. I believe that Natalie was there to greet Mom as she stepped into Heaven just as Mom had been there when Natalie left this world to enter those gates.

Carrying on the mission – A Gray May.

May is still the warm and beautiful month I have always loved so dearly. It is also brain cancer awareness month, and that is another reason that, for me and my family, the month of May will be gray. I will “Go Gray In May” to raise awareness, increase funding, and support families like mine impacted by brain tumors. Named for “gray matter,” gray is the color to represent brain tumor awareness. According to the National Brain Tumor Society, “nearly 700,000 Americans are living with a brain tumor. And, many more will be diagnosed each year.

Brain tumors are deadly, and can strike men, women, and children at any time.” According to the American Brain Tumor Association, in the year 2021, “[m]ore than 84,000 people will be diagnosed with a primary brain tumor,” and “approximately 18,000 will die as a result of a primary malignant brain tumor.” The types of brain tumors that took Mom and Natalie, GBM and DIPG, are just two of the 120 different types of primary brain tumors.

This May, I will remember my Mom and honor the incredible mother she was. I urge you to hug your own mother extra tight this May and soak in every word she says. I will also remember beautiful Natalie, this May, as well as her Mama, my cousin Amanda, a mother who lost her baby girl to brain cancer and misses her every day.

The month of May is still beautiful, but brain cancer is ugly and awful and we are working to increase brain tumor awareness. So, this May, please support “Go Gray in May” to raise awareness about brain cancer and brain tumors. This movement and the hashtag #gograyinmay help individuals and families impacted by brain tumors to find resources, receive acknowledgement, feel supported, and retain hope. You can show your support by wearing gray throughout the month of May and by donating to brain tumor research. To learn more, to donate, or to help raise awareness, visit the National Brain Tumor Society, the American Brain Tumor Association, and/or The Gray Matters Foundation.

My child has Autism. I want to share what it’s like understanding children with autism.

The roots are visible.

He reminds me of a Cypress Tree, because I get to see his roots most of the time. He is very strong like a Cypress. Sometimes he will have so much joy that it will flow upwards like the roots of a Cypress. He will feel the need to jump. He can jump so high. We get to see that emotion and experience it with him. Others who are not comfortable with this type of growth might stare. That’s okay, it’s truly no big deal. Don’t hold back, and please ask questions.

However, when you stare at my child’s roots, remember to smile. Please celebrate life with him.

Some branches grow toward the sun.

Understand that many branches will grow up toward the sunlight. However, some may grow sideways in search of sunlight. We all grow and learn differently in this world. If you see my child trying to get out of sunlight, then maybe the sun is too bright. Your branches might provide shade until he is ready for the sun. He just needs time to flourish. When he is ready, please be gentle with him, and share what you have found. They have roots that are growing at the same pace as those branches. So be patient; and let the roots get strong, as the branches search for the sun.

Leaves need shade please.

Our trees need strong roots and branches to produce beautiful leaves. My child’s leaves are sometimes slow to bloom; because he prefers the shade to the sunlight. I am okay with this growth. My child will be very strong because we are allowing his roots to grow at his own pace. I do not want to overwater his roots, or move him into the sunlight before he is ready. I am afraid if I did this, he would not have any leaves for the year. He might even stop growing and require more help. So growing slow is a good thing. He will produce beautiful leaves when he is ready.

Spring brings new growth.

Spring time is always a great time of year. The weather is beautiful and people seem to be more joyous and kind this time of year. My desire is for people to be kind and gentle all year long. Especially to the children with autism that are moving at their own pace. We do not want to rush these children or make them conform.

We should embrace their roots and celebrate life with them as they too grow beautiful leaves.

This perspective has helped me gain a wonderful insight into the mind of my child with high functioning autism. I pray it helps others understand why he might experience life the way he does. We can learn how to approach life just by observing nature. It creates a better understanding on how we can all grow together in an environment where everyone is unique. Let’s be kind all year long!

To learn more about understanding children with autism please visit autismspeaks.org. To read more about motherhood, be sure to see the other articles on our site that may interest you.

You would have turned 38, but another year will pass without you here to celebrate your birthday. We are thankful for the years we did have with you. However, it is sad to see so many years wasted because you are not here.

I honestly believe you would have been a great engineer or owned your own landscaping business designing amazing outdoor spaces. You had a natural gift for that type of stuff. I could have used your help over the years, but I did not get your help. Instead, I had to rely on Pinterest and years of HGTV shows. Shucks!

I see my children in you.

Did you know one of your nephews ask more questions than you ever did? He never stops asking me questions about life and how things work. He has such a mechanical mind, similar to you. He even has a passion for fishing, just like you did. You two would have been a pair to see together. Too bad, you are not alive. Instead, I share my memories of you with him. It helps make things better, but he reminds me so much of you. It is crazy!

I am convinced my husband, and you would have ganged up on me. You would have liked my husband because you have much in common. He is a computer nerd just like you were. His brain thinks as you did. Maybe I like him so much because he reminds me of you. Either way, we would have enjoyed having you around for family dinners. Too bad, you are not here for that.

If you were alive, I’d imagine you being married to a brilliant gal, someone that saw life from different angles. She would have complimented your strengths and weaknesses. I could have had more nieces and nephews to spoil. We could have done family vacations together. I have been blessed with so many nieces and nephews, but I always wonder what your children would have looked like. Hmm.

I wish you were here, so the family would not miss you so much.

We miss you daily.

We miss the person you were and the person you should have been. You were amazing in our eyes. A part of us died the day you took your life. Your family has all worked it out in their own way. We have adapted and overcome the grief it has caused us. We forgive you and ultimately have to forgive ourselves daily.

I can appreciate “the moment” because of all the moments we did not get with you. I can take that to my grave. I can live my life with kindness, courage, and empathy like nobody else around. Thank you so much for that gift. Your suicide broke your family, but we are so much stronger because of it.

I love you, dearly, and think of you daily. Especially today, because it is World Suicide Prevention Day. It’s a day to help spread awareness on the topic of suicide. I want others to know they are not alone in their thoughts. I hope someone can find support from family, friends, or medical professionals. They will be missed, just like we miss you.

Even though you are not here, I know you are around watching over us. I can feel your presence sometimes. I can not see you, but my sixth sense feels you. It could be all made up, but that is okay. It really is all I have of you, along with our memories. I cherish those deeply and often smile because of them.

Smiling below, thinking of you today and every day. Love, your sister.

You can read more stories about mental health under the wellness section.