Would she…?

At times, I wonder, and today is one of those times. I wonder, if she were alive, who would she really be?

This is not to say that I don’t love my life; I really do, because as recently as twenty-year-old me would be so proud and that is what matters. Not to make this a whole quarter-life-crisis tirade, but really, what if?

What if I could call my mother at the touch of a button? Would I tell her how much I enjoy cooking, or would I ask her to tell me stories about her youth? Would she finally show me her friend’s place — the same friend I’m named after? Would we talk about our favorite authors and the most memorable phrases from our favorite books, or would we talk about our reviews on Letterboxd? Would I have convinced her to use Letterboxd, or would she have told me that she is too old for it and I’d open an account for her anyway? Would we send movie recommendations or take each other to the cinema every year? Would she use Spotify, or I’ll send her music on YouTube? Would she be glad I introduced her to Mutoriah or not? Would she be open to doing TikTok challenges with me? Would she cringe when I yell, “Mustaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrddddddd!”

Would I tell her how much adulting sucks, and would she send me money or tell me to go back to her house? Would I have moved out of her house in the first place? Would I talk about my father with her, or would they have separated? Would I tell her how much I am in love with a lady on the other side of the world, or would I avoid the “girlfriend conversations” because she would be incessant about wanting to meet her? Would we plan to see each other soon and ask her to come and see my new place or would she have already seen it and want to visit me anyway? Would I call her every time I learned a new thing, or would I call her just to find out what she knows? Would she give me financial advice, or would I be the one to advise her on MMFs? Would we laugh every time people tell me that I look just like her, or would I keep on refusing and say that I don’t? Would our relationship be open, or would I keep her at arm’s length while still loving her? 

In fact, would we even have a relationship to begin with, or would we have fallen out because of something petty? Would our relationship be functional or dysfunctional? Would we talk on our birthdays or when I only want my official documents? Would I disapprove of her drama or, wait, would she be dramatic in the first place? Would I look forward to the end of my visits when she is at home, or would I avoid going to church with her and watching her be nice to other people? Would I love her as a person or love her as my mother? Would I always put her on a pedestal and never see her flaws? Would I know her ticks and the words she uses when angry or happy? What would be our way of apologizing to each other — would it be a soda or a meal at our favorite restaurant? Would she call me when she is mad at other people and share her grief with me? Would she hold my hand and cry with me at the funeral of one of her friends or bring me an extra plate at a wedding we were invited to? Would she make my tie before I give a speech and take me to dinner afterward? Would she take care of the plants I gift her, or would she kill them inadvertently, and I would keep buying more?

Would she brag about me to her friends whenever I visit, or would I be her child who never quite made it in her eyes? Would she reply to my emails on time or by calling me immediately after she reads them? Would she like the many traditions I would want to have with her, or would she be too busy at work? Would she ever take me to work with her again and let me enjoy clicking on her typewriter? Would I tell her about my work drama and laugh it off with her while she helps me look for a new job? Would I handle her social media and create content for her professional life? Would working with her be fun or frustrating?

Would she cook for me when I am sick until I tell her that she is smothering me and she worries too much? Would she tell me she knows a guy whenever I ask for home appliances, or would I be the guy she knows? Would she yell or laugh at me when one day I forgot to take out frozen chicken from the freezer?

Would she have another kid and revoke my “last-born status”? How would I feel about that? Would I be angry at her or at my younger sister? Would we talk as much after her birth, or would we always talk since I’ll be the one to take care of both of them? Would I be the one to give her “The Talk” because my sister is living proof that she needs “The Talk”? 

Would she still be alive, or would she be gone again because of another tragedy?

I guess we’ll never know. 

From Me To You

Handling grief is never easy, and I believe this is my first step in handling mine, like really handling it, so I don’t know all the answers; I never have and probably never will. One can say that I have been in denial for over a decade and a half, but oh, well, what can I say?

Grief is messy, and I am prepared to wade through the mud until I no longer feel this lump in my throat trying to choke me every time grief decides to visit. I am afraid that I’ll be writing for myself this year, so I’ll be doing a lot of exploring. 

If you’re suffering from your grief and it gets overwhelming, you can always reach out, and we can talk about it. 

In case this has been overwhelming for you, you can revisit my Maandamaneaux story and have a few laughs as I fought for my life fighting for this country.