Momma

Updated: Jun 4


During this time, I continue to hear my son’s voice, in my head, call my name. It amazes me, but he continues to call my name, at the age of 25, as he did when he was three. “Momma. Momma. Momma”, he would repeatedly call out. At times the consistency of him calling me would become so annoying. Why? Because most of the time he wanted absolutely nothing. What I finally realized is that he wanted nothing but the comfort of knowing that I was still connected to his voice. As imperfect as I was, as annoyed as I was, as fat or skinny, intelligent or mentally challenged, rich or poor…he wanted his mother. I was his answer for peace.


I am writing with a constant stream of tears as I revisit, in my imagination, the pain that George Floyd faced while on the ground coming to the terms of his last breath. Perhaps, he knew his end was near as he began to call out for his mother, who had been dead for two years. I’ve often heard and witnessed people, who were transitioning or having near death experiences, call out a loved one’s name who had gone before them. They loved them dearly. George Floyd called out for his mother. Perhaps that’s what made him transition in peace. I don’t know. All I know is that an adult black male cried for his Momma as he was being murdered unmercifully. He mustered up whatever breath he could to fight for his life… without success. Y’all…he cried out for his Momma!


This blog isn’t about you passing judgment on me, or me requesting pity. However, please allow me to express myself by being totally transparent in my writing (this is when I’m usually able to express myself). I am hurt, I am angry, and I am sad to the point that I cannot stop weeping while writing this blog. I’m hurt for many reasons: the death of another black person behind police brutality, the condition of our world, the hate, the prejudices that are in our community (it’s more than black vs. white), and the lack of reverence and fear of our God who made all humanity. I am hurt, I am stunned, and I need God to help me. Why are you telling us all of this, Tammy? Because I need you to know that regardless of who you may “think” I am, or what I do to encourage others…I too need God (I cannot stop crying). Yes, I trust God. Yes, I know that God is able. Yes, I know that He will step in. Right now…I’m processing and asking Him what can I do to help? I cannot sit dormant and watch while others respond in negative ways (I’m not violent…that’s not my way). I cannot sit and wish things would change and not attempt to make a change (I cannot). I cannot allow my emotions and my feelings interfere with me putting purpose into action. Why? Because I am a black man’s mother.


We are living in times where our pain is real (God, I can’t stop crying). But allow me to encourage you, with weeping in my soul, by reminding you (as I remind myself) that you are an answer. I’ve always stated that, “Love is the greatest weapon.” I mean that from my heart, but in all truth…my words are being tested and tried. However, if you know me…you know that I am a fighter. I refuse to bow down to my emotions. I will continue to fight in the Spirit, and I will use this platform to be an ANSWER. Today, I’d like to remind you that we have enough problems, we need you to be an answer.


We will get through this.


P.S.

Dear Trenton,

I will fight for your peace while I live. You won’t have to find it from me in your death. Breathe beautiful black man. Breathe meaningful, purposeful breaths, Son! Make a difference, be an answer of impactful change. I hear you calling me, son. I can’t play your God, but with love, I can lead you to him. Mommy loves you.

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