I know that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what you deserve. You have been my everything ever since I can remember. You have been a model of how to live life with infinite grace and dignity.
When I was little, we would draw in chalk on the driveway, you with your perfect tulips, me with my deformed daisy-ish things. I would come to work with you at the salon, and sit at the nail station and get my nails painted while you worked. I was a pampered little girl. You taught me how to braid hair on my dolls, though I never mastered the french braid.
When I was ten, you had to become both my mom and my dad, a transition you made seamlessly. I can’t even imagine what that was like for you. Having to raise two young kids by yourself. You were, and still are, the strongest person I know. You never let us see the stress you were under. You never made us feel like we were asking too much of you, while I’m sure we did, at times.
You made sure I knew to always stand up for myself. You made sure I got all my schoolwork done (and helped me find tutors when I couldn’t do it myself). I was always encouraged to try my hardest, and praised when I did so. When I excelled, you were my biggest fan. When I failed, you were the first one to pick me up and tell me to try again. You chauffeured me for years (which I have no doubt got old really quickly) without a single complaint. Movies, the mall, tutoring, there was never a time you hesitated to get me from/take me somewhere.
When I got cut from softball freshman and sophomore year of high school, the sport I’d been playing since I was seven, you let me cry and just held me.
When it came time for me to get my learner’s permit, you came home from work only to turn around and go right back out the door to drive me to take the test. You let me drive your car home after that (which I’m sure was a terrifying experience). You knew I wanted a Jeep, so you went hunting. You found a Grand Cherokee in great condition the next town over. You bought me my first car, and I still can’t thank you enough for that.
When I got my first tattoo and came home crying because I was so overwhelmed, you never said I told you so even though I know you weren’t fond of it. You held me and reassured me that everything was going to be okay.
When it was time to start looking at colleges, you packed up your car, put on the Boston: Greatest Hits CD and we hit the road. I never felt like the trips were an inconvenience, because you were so excited to experience the tours and college life with me. When we toured what would become my home for four years, you looked at me, beaming, and your eyes shone with pride. You fell in love with UD just as much as I did.
Saying goodbye to you when I moved in was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I started crying and couldn’t stop. I got into the elevator after you left, still crying, when a guy got on with me. He was an RA. He smiled at me and said, “Don’t worry, it gets better,” and I knew I would be okay. The first few weeks without you were absolute hell. You sent me a care package for my one-month anniversary. You sent an exam survival package during finals (which was quite possibly the only reason I survived). You knew what I needed, even though I was a hundred miles away.
You remind me to try to look at life in a positive way, even though I forget most of the time. You’ve taught me to be self-sufficient. You made sure I knew the value of a solid work ethic from a young age, but never made me feel pressured to get a job while I was in school. You’ve worked hard to get into, and stay a part of, a great school district. Your hard work gets you closer to the job you want every day. You cherish your friends, and they adore you.
I couldn’t be more proud of you. People say all women turn into their mothers. If that’s true, I couldn’t be luckier. Every day I become more like you, I get stronger, wiser, kinder and more beautiful.
You deserve all the good life has to offer, and even more. I love you more than you could ever know.
