Because of Her, I Can

City Manager, Educator, Public Administrator, Author, Family Historian, Gardener, Grandma, Aunt, Sister, Mother, Friend, Perry Mason Fan and so much more

Much has happened since 2016.  The past years have been ripe with opportunity to grow, to be set back, to climb, to fall, to love, to cry, to celebrate and finally to regret.  I have accomplished much with years of discovery, nuance, sadness, anxiety and so many more “things”.  Let’s just say life happened with everything going on, COVID, social injustice, tanking economy, with a cherry on top as the death of my best friend, my mother in 2020. I can honestly say that I am hopeful for a better perspective on things.  I reached my lowest point with a piercing light that continues to point to my mom from every angle.  To her, I owe everything. I miss her so.

My world has been rocked to and fro.  I wake up to the emptiness in my gut from the thought of never being able to wrap my arms around her and kiss her sweet cheeks.  I wish that her final days were her choice, that it was not sudden, that we had a better nurse and doctor and that modern healthcare was not a money machine full of doctors who see dollar signs as patients and not humans deserving of dignity.  I wish we had a chance to cherish the final moments as final and not expectant of a sunshiny recovery.  Mom deserved more than what she experienced.  The hospital was cold.  The nurse was frigid and was wrong for giving mom pain pills on an empty stomach after 2.5 days of not eating. Let’s just say the past six months have been hard.  So much to process.

My expectations of life, of where I was supposed to be, just fell flat on the floor.  All of a sudden I didn’t want anything.  I mourned the death of my mom, my best friend, and am still grieving.  The pain is hard, and still visits on a regular basis. The hole in my gut is my unwanted companion that makes itself known always.

And yet … there is something beautiful about the final handover of the baton in this race we call life.  I look back at all the lessons that prepared me for my “leg of the race”.  There is something about the passing of the baton that resonates.  When mom passed that baton from her hospital bed where she died, I wasn’t ready to jettison into victory. I’m still not ready…but I’m trying… still. I think about the lessons she taught me, the shaping of my work ethic, my love for community, her impressions on my spirit and her sage advice. I look at my face and I see her and I love what I see… I see her looking back at me.

And somehow, I can hear her in this very moment with tears pouring down my cheeks and her looking on from the sideline of the field, “Go Shaun. You got this!” And as I wipe my face, I’m resolved to win this race because I owe her everything. She made me who I am and I’m determined to carry on her legacy to make a difference in this world. Because of her, I can.

But when the hole returns, I’ll see it as a moment to pause, remember and reconnect with her words amd her spirit. God help me…please.