Dear Mom,

I miss you. Today I listened to Whitney Houston and I know I only love her so much, because you loved her. You played her music for me as a kid, and anything, you loved, I loved. I knew that your time here on earth was going to be short, so I cherished every moment with you. I told you I loved you every night, at 8 and 9 years old, before I even knew what love meant. I experienced losing you a couple times, so I knew how important and how lucky I was to have you, every time you came back from the hospital.

I feel blessed to have gotten all the moments I did get with you. I didn’t understand the odds you beat making it to the top of the donors list, receiving a successful heart transplant and recovering from that. All I knew was that mommy would be coming home soon, and I had something to look forward to. You explained to me what a pace maker was, and how your body had to get accustomed to the beat of the new heart, but I didn’t understand. I was just glad to have you back and to be able to sleep next to you again.

You spoiled me. You got me everything I wanted. Nintendo, Playstation, Jordans, Jordan Posters, Gold rings, and any candy I asked for. This is why I am such a spoiled brat now and I can’t comprehend not getting what I want. Even after I lost you, the family continued to get me everything I wanted, because they wanted to keep me happy. But I had already lost my best friend; no air hockey table, Xbox, new bike, or Disneyworld trip would ever truly suffice. But they were nice distractions.

Though, I lost you at 10 years old, at the age of 27, I still miss you. Now more so than ever, I wonder what life would be like with you here. I know you would be there for me in every time of need. I know that I could call on you with any problem, and you would understand. You would tell me that everything is going to be all right, and that no matter what, I would always be successful in your eyes. I was your baby and you loved me. You made that clear, and I still feel that love. As crazy as Sharron was growing up, you loved her too. Though I was younger than Sharron, I knew that she would regret being young and wild, arguing with you all the time, because your time was precious. And she did. It hit her harder than anyone else, and at times I think she is still stuck at 13 years old. My biggest regret is missing all of the kind words from your friends at your funeral, because I had to console Sharron in the lobby. I wanted to hear and remember how much other people loved you. I don’t know why or how I was so strong at 10 years old, but I knew I had to keep it together.

The day I got the news that you were not coming back from the hospital, something that I had begun to take for granted, I threw up. My body physically couldn’t take it and I felt broken. Though time healed. I didn’t want to admit it, but the social workers, and workshops for parents who lost their parents also helped. I can still vaguely eating pizza and making clay volcanoes that ‘expressed my feelings.’ “If you keep everything inside, eventually you will erupt like a volcanoe.” The young skeptic in me already felt like it was all bullshit and I played along enough to graduate to comfort of my new Xbox.

I still don’t know who my dad is. You told me that his name was Dwayne, and though I am named after my sisters dad, I never knew him to be my dad. Rightly so, because I am much better looking than he is. I look more like you anyway. You told me my dad didn’t know I existed, and looking back it makes sense. You got back with my sisters dad before I was born, and everyone thought I was his child. Having lost you and then being shipped away to Michigan, the thought of finding this stranger in Chicago, doesn’t speak to me. I rather just believe, that you were my only parent and cherish the memories we had together. Yet, at times like these, I feel very alone. Yes, I have family and loved ones. But I don’t have you. I don’t have someone that I can just go and lay up under, and forget about all of my pain and my worries. I don’t have someone to tell me that I am the best thing in the world, to brag about how smart and how cute I am. I don’t have someone that I would give my life for. You loved me unconditionally, before I knew what love was, and I still feel that love.

You would be proud of the man that I have grown up to become. I went through some very terrible phases, but I never felt like the world owed me anything. I was just bad because I knew I could be, and I always felt like I was smarter than everyone else. But I grew up. I have learned compassion, humility and respect. I treat others how I want to be treated. And because of you, I cherish my loved ones. I don’t call my Aunt’s enough, even though they raised me. They are my great aunts and I feel like the time gap is a little far, so it’s hard for them to relate to the lifestyle I am living now. But I know they love me and want the best for me; I return the love. I check in once a week and visit as much as I can. But I have always envied those kids who call their moms everyday, and often times made fun of them. But I wonder if we would have that same kind of relationship. You had a sense of humor and loved to joke just like me, I’m sure we would still be best friends. I remember someone coming to the door and asking for Rhonda once, and I told them no one by that named lived here. You laughed and told me “That’s my name fool.” That was such an eye opening moment for me; I hadn’t realized you had a name other than mom.

For the first time in my life, I am living in Chicago, your old stomping grounds. I am not living on the west side or the south side, because it’s not safe. It wasn’t safe then, but you knew how to navigate the streets. That one time when we were coming out of church, and a guy held us at gunpoint, robbing you of all your jewelry and money. I had no idea what was going on, staring confused as you gave this stranger your favorite ring. That memory still stands out to me, and I now know exactly what was going on, and admire how strong you were. You made me feel like everything was okay. You wanted more than anything for Sharron and me to get out of Chicago. And after you passed, the family sent us to Ypsilanti, Michigan, where we would grow up in a safe suburban community. Your wish was granted. The days are over where gang members would tell Sharron and myself to go in the house, because they were about to have a drive by shooting. Or even worse, the day our cousin Pimp overdosed in our front yard from taking all the drugs he owed money for, only to be shot in that same yard once he was found. Aunt Gert had to witness losing her son that way, and I know you didn’t want that fate for me.

At a young age, I understood why I needed to be in Michigan. But when I came back and tried to visit my friends, they didn’t understand. I knocked on my next-door neighbors door, where I would have sleep over’s, learned to fight and played video games. I still remember my best friend yelling out the window, “Fuck Tradell, he left us,” refusing to come down and hang out with me. That hurt, and I cried. I didn’t want to go to Michigan where they didn’t have Harold’s Chicken, or any clue as to what mild sauce was. How could they blame me for leaving? This was the beginning of many times that I would feel very alone, and times that I would miss you the most.

I became a loner then, and though I have friends all over the world now, I am still very much so a loner. I think differently, I am different and I’m okay with that. But as much pain as you went through, you never asked for a handout and you never made excuses. Even though you lost your flower shop, you went back to work with your new heart, working for the hospital and doctors at RUSH that saved your life. I read a pamphlet that they featured you in last week, and it made my heart smile. I wish I could have built more memories with you, and got to know you as much as everyone else did. But, you were strong and you taught me how to be strong. So it’s my responsibility to make something of myself, and to take care of Sharron. She turned 30 this year, and she is still as young and wild as she was at 13. She called to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving last week, but figured it was the perfect time to run down her Christmas list to me, which included a new Michael Kors bag and an iPad mini. Even though I told her she was out of her fuckin mind, I made a note with the list in my iPhone, because I know it’s my job to spoil her now.

As I sit in a Starbucks in Lakeview, surrounded by white people, you would be proud. Not only can I have an articulate and educated conversation with other fellow college graduates, I can still relate to people from the hood. Because of you and the sacrifices our family made, I have been able to travel the world and have a blast while doing it. Such as that time I studied abroad in Queretaro, Mexico for 3 months and stayed with a host family who didn’t speak English, forcing myself to learn Spanish. Because of you, I am fearless and I don’t mind taking risks; I have already lost what was my most prized possession. So I learned Spanish, took shots of tequila with live worms, smoked mota with the locals, and had sex on the beaches of Ixtapa at 2am under the moonlight.

I live for an adventure and a thrill. But, the lone wolf is what I have become. I used to be very hardheaded and stubborn, and even now, it’s still hard for someone to tell me anything other than what I already have in my head. But I have learned to listen to people’s opinions that I value. I now understand that I can’t do this alone. But to be honest, I really wish I were doing this with you. I wish that you could have come with me to Cape Town, South Africa and saw the Botanical Gardens of Kirstenbosch and then tried the wine of our motherland. I wish you could have tried Belgian waffles in Brussels, or most importantly saw the beautiful Tulip fields in Amsterdam, because I know how much you loved flowers. Deep down, I know you're watching. Deep down, I know you are smiling. And even though I have found peace with your passing, life always gives me little reminders of my loss. Today that was Apple Music creating a playlist full of Whitney Houston’s greatest hits, because thanks to you, I own every song. As I sat there a 6’1 190 pound muscular grown man, humming along to Whitney, I thought about how much I Will Always Love You.

❤