Happy Birthday, Didn't Make it Easy

I know that I didn't make it easy. I lived with my father and my other mother on alternate years. I was young and all I wanted was for my father and my mother - Maggie - to get back together. Now, here was this other woman, Tuessia, standing in the way. This woman who also shared the same birthday as my mom, I would one day also call mom.

But not so fast, to rush it would do her and injustice. It takes a strong woman to love through a child's wish that she wasn't there.

I don't ever remember being mean, but I had to have been something. If she were here to tell it, that "something" would morph into "a handful" and then some!

Still, she loved my Dad and that was enough to start. As the years passed, it became

clear to me that Maggie's and Cornell's separation was of their own making - and in many ways, was a blessing. My mother had never asked me to fight any battles for her anyway. Slowly, I began to let my guard down; stopped comparing her to my other mom, and started to appreciate some of her magic, some of her love, some of her story and her strength.

My sister Sheridena (Mallonese Avery) helped. Loving my brother Randy helped. Mr. Avery - her father - became a grandfather to me. That helped. By the time my sister, Ingrid Lias came, it was a wrap. I had two mothers - both different and both loved me. My mother had remarried too and my sisters Susan (Susan Soulay), Vonzella (Vonzella Brown) and Angie (Angie Wright-Tucker) had come on the scene. In true African tradition, we were all brothers and sisters. No steps. No halves. We all had become family.

In the beginning, everything ran through dad, now we were beginning to find our own relationship. Plus I was beginning to see that my dad was a handful. I was glad that she loved him.

Mama Tuessia, Rev. Randy Geddie and Ingrid Lias

By the time I was 15 and working as a photographer at the Savoy Supper Club, both couples were seated together at the same table enjoying themselves. Strange to some; natural for us. I was happy too.

 Still, it would be years before I could call her "mom." During my younger contentious years, she had instructed me to call her "Ms. Tuessia." It was respectful but distant. It's like our growing closeness had to crawl over a "Ms. Tuessia" fence. I had long wanted to give that up and one day I risked that she didn't want or need it either.

On a long drive from Montgomery, AL to Fayetteville, NC, I decided that I'd ask her the question that I'd wanted to ask, but just hadn't. In the car with me was my son, Ayinde. Tears streamed down my face when he was asleep. His mother had recently separated from me, and when I would look at him, I'd see myself many years before. Funny how things come around.

Now was the time.

When I rolled the car into our driveway at 511 Dean Street, she and I embraced. It was really good to see her and I couldn't wait to find the right time. When we finally got to a quiet place alone, I started with a little nervous chit-chat, then asked, "can I call you "mom?" Her smile told me that I was right - she had wanted that fence down as much as I did. Our eyes watered. We hugged again this time for a long time and though she's now passed to the other side, she has not stopped huggin' me since that day.

I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday.