Now, I understand that the contents of this article may be slightly cliché. “A Letter To My Mom” or “A Letter To My Best Friend” who inevitably is your mom is a title that nearly any writer has thought about and one that many have written. The essence of this article is slightly different than these common renditions.
That is because it is not just about my mom – but about my hero.
I grew up in a small town in Virginia about ten miles outside of the city of Richmond called Mechanicsville. Mechanicsville isn’t known for its exuberant atmosphere in any way, shape or form. For example, the most exhilarating aspect of the town is a bowling alley. However, during my childhood, my mother somehow made it seem like utopia.
The complexities of my childhood were evident from the time I could process the world around me. Under the roof of the small, yellow house I grew up in lived my sister, my mother, and myself. My parents divorced before I could fully understand what the term even meant. However, I never questioned the complications of our family because my mother made it seem as if our family was conventional.
She made sure that my sister Emma and I had every adequate necessity, she never complained about any complication that she would endure (which is still true to this day), and she did her best to make sure Emma and I were never left short-handed with our desires if even if they may have seemed out of reach.
Throughout my life, I have had many people criticize the way I was brought up. My mother grew up in Glen Rock, New Jersey where she experienced the quintessential life of the rock and roll 1970’s. Growing up with eleven brothers and sisters, excessive punishment and overprotectiveness was not part of the procedure. She understood the resentment that kids had towards their parents who were treated this way and refused to have a toxic relationship with me and my sister.
With the implementation of this regime throughout my childhood, I was able to experience the world through my own interpretations and decisions. She always told me that when it came down to making a decision, it would be up to me to determine whether it would be right or wrong and that the consequences were my responsibility to deal with.
As I ascended through school and life, she instilled in me the idea that leadership meant following one’s own path and that being a “follower” was a quality she never saw in me. I believed her and implemented her interpretation throughout my childhood as well. This came in the form of expression through clothing and style whether it be my hair down to my shoulders in elementary school, skin-tight pants and band t-shirts in middle school, or even with sports and friendships.
The impact of the Great Recession was apparent during my childhood as well. My mother lost her job as a secretary during the economic downfall which became a strenuous battle for the family to deal with. Though she had never complained about any pain in her life and often hid this from me and my sister, the inevitability of her disabilities also came following multiple neck surgeries.
From this point on, my sister and I had come to an understanding that life would be extraordinarily different. We had believed that we would go through the process of having to constantly find new places to live, that we would have to find new friends or go to new schools, whatever the outcome may be.
But this was never the case. Furthermore, our lives barely changed at all despite some difficulties with finding ways to make ends meet.
Through middle school and high school, my house became the headquarters of mindless activity. My friends slept over every weekend where we would continue our plans made from previous weekends. Although we were obnoxious, ear-piercing, and incredibly bothersome, we would wake up every morning to the smell of bacon and eggs prepared by her.
Not only was she my mother, but a mother to my friends as well. She always made herself available and always showed interest in the lives of us all. Though she often doesn’t get enough credit for what she did for many of them, I will always recognize the impact she made on so many.
Although I am now studying at UVa, she continues to play a role in my life incomparable to anyone. She may sometimes be critical in her motivational techniques, but I wouldn’t prefer it any other way. Since I was a boy, she convinced me that the sky wasn’t the limit because my potential had no limit. She showed me that it is a person’s decision-making abilities and dedication that make someone successful and that being raised in a certain way doesn’t guarantee success.
My mother gave me and my sister everything without ever wanting anything for herself. She always put others before herself without asking for anything in return. She raised two children on her own without ever complaining or asking for sympathy. She made a small, dull town seem like the center of the universe. This isn’t just an appreciation letter for my mother or for my best friend, but for my role model and hero – my mother.
