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Rated: E · Documentary · Family · #2238694
Remembering my mother twenty-seven years after her death -- November 29, 2020.
November 29, 1993, was a Monday, and it was the 333rd day of the year 1993. It was the 48th Monday of that year. The next time you can reuse your old 1993 calendar will be in 2021. Both calendars will be the same!

What this information is missing is that it was also the day that my mother died. No, she did not transition. She did not pass away. She died! After looking in the mirror, she laid down on her bed and, smiling, died. Just like that, in that order.

The voice of reason. The voice of sanity. My comfort. My spiritual advisor. The woman who told me that she did not have anything to offer me but her two broad shoulders, but that I could always count on them being there to push me forward. She just laid down and died.

She could not say. She had to go, and go she did. Florence Henrietta Brown Williams died at 5:00 p.m., Monday, November 29, 1993. She died at Carroll Manor Nursing Home in Avondale, Maryland, from Alzheimer's Disease. Her physical body was in excellent condition. No diabetes, not on any kinds of medication, she just laid down and stopped breathing. She died.

I saw the peace that engulfed her body. I had never seen her more beautiful. I rushed home to get my children to see the beauty that surrounded my mother, but by the time I gathered them up and got back to Carroll Manor, her death mask had taken over, which scared the children and me. Her death, at that very moment, became real. So real that it took me eighteen (18) years to forgive her for dying and leaving me alone.

This morning, it seems like just yesterday that my mother died and left this earth. As God would have it, He left me three precious reminders of her passing, Timothy Alexander, II, Eriyana Miles Barnes, and Charles Miles. Timothy (mother, got to hold and talk to him during moments of clarity), Eriyana, (she also got to hold her, but instantly did not like her and wanted nothing to do with her). Charles, she never met. We call these three the triplets because they were born in 1993 before mother's death. The triplets turned 27 years old this year, and all three have made mother a great-great-grandmother. I can only imagine the joy that would be in her heart if she was still here to witness her family's growth and development.

As a child growing up, my mother always talked about having a family so large that we could not all fit in one room and that the table would be so long with all her offspring sitting around it. Well, she did not live to see that day, but 27 years later, her dream has come true. There is almost one hundred of us between my brother Jimmy and me – my crew numbers more than thirty-five, and my brother's crew is much larger than mine.

Today, her death serves as a very painful reminder of what I have lost. I am also reminded of what I have gained, my family. As my heart does its tricks, and my mind plays yoyo with my feelings, I am thankful for having Florence Henrietta Brown Williams as my mother. For this alone, I owe God a debt of gratitude! Keep on resting in Jesus until that day of resurrection, and the day of judgment for your work comes. Until then, mine continues. I loved you, I love you now, and I will love you until my day comes.

Peace and blessings always.

If you are reading this and your mother is still here with you, pick up the phone, call her, and tell her how much you love her. One day, that phone call will mean more to you than you will ever know.
© Copyright 2020 G. B. Williams (mgmiles01 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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