Remembering Robby

Considering that so much of what I write about is couched in laughter, I was conflicted about writing a column this week. You see, today is my mother’s birthday. I lost my mother in 2008 to cancer.

Those of you who have lost a parent know that, regardless of how old you are, it still feels like, on some level, you are an orphan. While I acknowledge the day she left us, I choose each year to celebrate her birthday. Why? Because it is her birth, life and memories that bring me solace.

Robby, my mom, was a true diva. She carried herself like a lady and modeled that behavior for my sisters and other young women in our family. She enjoyed family and lived to host a great party or get together. People say I have a distinct laugh, but hers was truly uplifting and infectious. You see, laughter for us was like an old lazy chair -- it made our home comfortable and familiar.

My mom faced some serious challenges as a young mother. I saw her struggle, so my job, at a very early age, was to make my mom laugh. I believe I developed my sense of humor mainly to distract my Mom from the hard times and to also keep from getting my butt beat…lol.

Robby was the daughter of a minister and was blessed with an incredible singing voice. When I was younger, I did not know or like the effect she had on people when she sang in church. (You know, all the hollering and shouting…smile.) It was not until I was a little older that I truly understood and appreciated her gift. She was not a church fanatic, but she raised us in a very spiritually based environment.

Robby was not a saint, by any means…smile. She was a single, working mother and fiercely independent. She did things her own way and was kind of a militant…lol. She grew up during segregation, but that did not diminish her expectation for a better life for herself and her children.

My Mom was also a taskmaster. She expected all of us to contribute to the household; no entitlement issues here, people. A typical Saturday morning started with my Mom interrupting my Saturday morning cartoons and yelling for us to get up, straighten our rooms, get breakfast and clean the house.

The fun did not stop there. Since I was the oldest, I would then be dropped off with multiple bundles of clothes and rolls of quarters at the Laundromat, like some Las Vegas refugee. (This was back when you could actually leave a kid unsupervised without GPS, cell phone or mace.)

Even on a tight budget, she made sure our home was comfortable -- we had clean clothes, hot meals and managed weekly cultural outings and yearly family vacations. (A benefit of having a big family is you are able to travel and stay with folks, thus allowing you to visit exciting places like Magic Mountain, Lion Country Safari and even Disneyland.)

I continue to see my Mother’s contributions in various aspects of her family. I see so much of her wisdom in what I do as an educator. My youngest sister has her gift of song. My middle sister has her independent spirit and creativity. I became a great-uncle last week and I see my mother in her first great-grandbaby, who I know she would have spoiled and cherished.

When I see how many young people suffer without appropriate matriarchs in their lives, I am grateful for having had such a beautiful, caring and talented woman in mine.

My sisters and I were with my mom in her last days. I was fortunate as her firstborn and only son to hold her hand and be with her as her spirit transcended her body and she took her last breath. A part of me departed with her in that moment, but I keep the best parts of her with me…until we see each other again and embrace in a melodious duet of expressive joy.

They say time heals all things, and to some degree that is true. I grieve a little less. A song, picture or even a scent brings forth more smiles than tears now.

I would like to share a tribute (below) that I created for my Mom for her 60th birthday.

I challenge all of us to uniquely celebrate and honor those we love while they are here. I know I am not the only one who has lost a loved one, and although it is difficult at times, we must remember that we keep them alive and with us through our memories, rituals and, yes, when we are ready again, our laughter.