Mom, Grandmom To All: Maya Angelou's Legacy With Me

My fav image of Maya Angelou (1928-2014)

Like the rest of the world, I took the passing of author and poet Maya Angelou really hard when I saw it in my stream of news.  I was overwhelmed by so many emotions and I wept reading key pieces of her work the other night. Then, it occurred to me that the most important thing I'll miss about Dr. Angelou is her mothering and grandmothering of me. Yep. Me, personally from a far.

I picked the photo of Dr. Angelou on purpose because it represents something to me.

Age.
Longevity.
Endurance.

Things my sweet mom and maternal grandmom were not blessed with.

Maya Angelou only birthed one child physically, her son Guy in 1945 when she was just 17 years old.  Yet, she said on many occasions that she was fortunate to be the "mother to many people".  I was one of those people.

From a distance, from a far - as soon as I connected with Maya Angelou's writing, she was a mother figure to me.  Followers of this blog know well that my own mom, Betty Jean Jackson (Wilmer)  lost her life at the tender age of 24 years old in 1976 when I was just 4 years old.  For much of my life, I've resisted real-life, up close mother figures.  So it was easy to have this distant yet close in spirit mom figure in Maya Angelou.  However, as I read more and devoured information about her in her death, I realized that she'd moved a space from mother to grandmother in the later years of our "relationship."

I realized upon "losing"  Maya that, in addition to being a motherless daughter, I never had a close relationship with a grandmother either. On my paternal side, I had a grandmother who enjoyed a long life until 1997. Unfortunately, I never had the privilege to know and/or enjoy her.  My mom's mom, who was nearby and very involved in our lives, passed away suddenly in her 50s in the mid 80s. I've always said she passed away from a broken heart.

An only child of sharecroppers in Arkansas, my grandmother Lois Anderson had four children of her own. My mom, Betty was her first child and when she lost her, it was said that she never truly recovered from the blow.  Then in late 1983, she lost her own mom and barely lived another 90 days passing away in her early 50s in 1984. The legacy of early death haunts me. So, at some point over the years, I transferred my maternal feelings toward Maya Angelou to those of a grandmother. Without one on earth for most of my life, I just made Maya Angelou my grandmother.

I looked forward to any news from her and the releases of her books. When we got Twitter and she joined, I eagerly followed to feel connected to her and her wisdom.

Now, I'm officially without "mother and grandmother" Maya Angelou. And even though  I've been in this place before, this time, I'm left with tangible evidence of her presence in my life through her writings.

Thank you, Dr. Maya.

A Birthday Wish

Betty Jean Jackson Wilmer (1951-1976) and me in 1972 or 3

Today December 12, 2011, my mom would be 60 years old.

She's been gone from this life since August 19, 1976 and it hardly feels like she was ever here.

In fact, the biggest imprint and proof of her existence dwells in me and my younger sister, Jeanine.

My hope for this post is to give some people out there, who wonder what ever happened to Betty Jean Jackson some glimpse. Think about it. We now live in an age when people "Google" folks and since today is her birthday, perhaps an old classmate or work friend decides that they want to know what happened to her. I want them to get it a hit and see this post. Snoop around and read more about me - the eldest daughter of Betty Jean Jackson (Wilmer) - Denise Wilmer Barreto.

Betty Jean met and married Albert Wilmer in 1971- I arrived late that year and they had another daughter Jeanine in April 1976 and she passed away four months later that August at age 24, four months shy of her 25th birthday. She was super happy she became a mom and was so very hopeful for the future when tragedy struck. There's not much more I know to the story but it is a beautiful one.

I gotta believe that the reason relationships matter so much to me is because of the absence of this relationship between my mom and me. With few photos and even fewer people around to tell me about her, I have repainted her in my mind and in my dreams.

It's a bit too painful nor can I actually articulate it all but I know one thing...

She'd be proud of what I've become.

She'd glow when she told people what I did for a living. She'd be telling everyone the secret I'd have asked her to keep until the new year.

She'd love my family and be proud of my attempts at motherhood without her.

Happy Birthday Mommy! I know you are smiling down on us from heaven.

Connecting Through The Power Of A Song

Lately, my nine year old daughter Emma has been playing the 1967 Tammi Terrell and Marvin Gaye hit "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" at least once every time we are together playing music which is at least 3 times per week.  Like many around the world, I love this song but possibly for different reasons.

This song and many others from that era of music when Motown rocked America's airways is particularly special to me because it connects me to my mom, Betty Jean Jackson,  who passed away in 1976 at the age of 24. 

You see, because I didn't know my mom - I have been piecing together her life over the last 20 years from chats with her sister, the few pictures that I have been able to gather and most notably, through music.

Music paints a picture and adds a soundtrack to life.

Think about it. We all do it.

A song plays on the radio and we think about where we were at the time when that song was always being played the first time. We think of people who were part of our lives, conversations that took place with that song playing in the background. No matter where you are when ____________________ by ______________ comes on you are whisked back to that moment in time.

I do that with music from Smokey Robinson and the Miracles. The Supremes. The Jackson Five and especially with the song in the video above.

Picture it - 1967. My mom was in high school probably her 2nd or 3rd year as I have no real records to confirm. This song most likely was her dream for love. For the man who would whisk her away and love her like no other. Like all teenage girls in that day. 

Ironically, Tammi Terrell was very close in age to my mom. Six years between them. In fact, little did my mom know (at that time)  they would both share the same fate of death at age 24 shortly before their 25th birthdays. Perhaps that's the other reason the song carries deeper meaning for me.

Not only does this song speak to me about my mom's life at that time - her dreams, her wants, who she was but it carries a "secret" message to me.  Those lyrics say, "If you need me, call me - no matter where you are, no matter how far..."

Through this song my mom tells me to reach out for her when I miss her.

Mourn her when I need to... talk to her when I have no one else.

Because she cares and would have done anything to be here with me.

Even now just hearing the start of the song brings tears. I always struggled to explain the emotion to my daughter until I stopped to think about it for this post.

Some music carries messages to us from dear love ones that is hard to articulate but we feel it deeply. I embrace this song and many others from that era as they hold the answers to questions my soul longs to hear directly from my mom. And until we meet again...

Tammi Terrell and Marvin Gaye's recorded hits serve as her mouthpiece to my heart.