I've been thinking about my mom and how she raised me as a single parent at 17 years old. Of course she had the support of my grandmother and my aunts because until I was about 4-5 years old, we were all in the same household. However, after that time, it was always just me and mom living together until I was in my early 20s.

It seems that you have to become an adult to appreciate the vast amount of things your parents do for you as a child. I look back on being blessed with abundance and never wanting for anything, never feeling the pain of hunger, and it was all because of my mom.

There are many things I remember my mother doing for me that stand out, such as taking me to The Jacksons Victory Tour concert in Kansas City when I was about 15 years old. (I was such a huge fan of Michael Jackson, in particular, that when he died, people called me to see if I was okay. ) In fact, my walls were nearly 100 percent covered with Michael Jackson posters. Once I became too old to keep them on the walls, I carefully removed the posters, taking my time to remove the tape. I don't know how many posters I'd collected in total, but it was noteworthy. Impressive, quite frankly. In fact, there were enough posters to fill a small suitcase. To this day, this missing suitcase of posters is a point of contention between my mom and me. These posters weren't something I ever intended to part with. I knew they'd be something I'd revisit some day, and that day came on June 25, 2009. (I'm noticing that this is a pattern with me, having the mindset to save all important things in my life.)

Something else I remember with much gratitude is my mom surprising me with a car -- a 1980 black Plymouth Horizon -- some time after high school. I saw the car parked on the street but didn't think anything of it. I remember my boyfriend and I had just returned from a movie and we were sitting on the couch. She tossed me some keys and said something like, "Don't you want to take your car for a ride?"

Other memories include always having so many items to open for Christmas. I always had plenty of dolls and other girly things. I also remember my mom biting off a cookie to make it seem like Santa did it.

My mom was always a hard worker, too. In fact, I think she even worked more than one job oftentimes. I realize now that she was working so hard because she was raising me and wanted me to have as much as possible. I don't recall ever not having something I wanted. But most importantly, she made sure that I had a roof over my head and that I was never hungry. I'm sure there were some rough moments in my upbringing, but she made sure I never saw them.

A couple of months ago, I was talking to my mom and she mentioned a gospel song that was her favorite song. She said I needed to remember it because she wants it played at her funeral. I was silent for what seemed like minutes and nearly blacked out on the phone. Finally, I was able to blurt out, "Don't say that!" My mom calmly said, "You know, it's going to happen." I really didn't have much to say after that. Although we started talking about something else, my mind was still on the word funeral. When we got off the phone, I sobbed. Uncontrollably, I sobbed. Although my time could certainly come before hers, I just have trouble imagining a world without my mom in it. So, I won't.

During Thanksgiving last year, my mom told me a story about how when I was young and visiting my father one time, his girlfriend put a big dollop of butter on my bread without spreading it out. My mom said I came back home extremely troubled about this because I was so accustomed to her spreading the butter for me from edge to edge across every grain. She was actually troubled about it too and thought it was some form of abuse. Well, okay, so I'm exaggerating. Anyway, this explains why today I spread my condiments evenly across my bread. We Griffins are very particular about our food.

I love you, and I thank you, mom.

#love #mom #singleparent #michaeljackson #gratitude #death #holidays