Shirley Girl

Shirley.

It took two years and a diagnosis of brain cancer for me to realize you had a heart of gold.

Without complaint or instruction, you stepped into the Mama role when I so desperately needed it.  You were so much like my own Mama I believed she was speaking to me through you.

Especially when you started yelling. 

Especially when you started yelling at me to PAY ATTENTION:  Pay attention to what I was doing, where I was going, and what was going on. 

I WAS paying attention, Mama.  I thought I deserved it.

That’s what I thought I was supposed to learn from you:  That I deserve to be mistreated because I’m so hard to get along with.  People can’t help themselves and take a swing at me out of sheer frustration.  I thought I had to accept that as the Truth of Me.

Once you realized that, Shirley, you stopped yelling. 

You realized I wasn’t simply being stubborn or wanting attention; I was truly lost.  Truly lost in all of the lies than ran my life for far too long.

You saw that we had much more in common than anyone – including ourselves – realized.  You told me over and over and over again I didn’t deserve ANY bruises until I finally had the strength to stand up for myself.

You stood by me every step of the way, including that sham of a trial.  You were a Warrior and I was blessed to witness it firsthand when you began to yell about the injustice of it all and the bailiff threatened to put you in jail, too. 

I lived my whole life thinking my own Mama didn’t love me.  In that moment, Shirley Girl, I saw that she always did.

That’s what made you a Saint:  You did not care one iota what other people thought.  You followed God’s instruction without question, without fail, and without worry.  Your faith was the size of a mountain and we all bask in its shadow.

Rest in glory, Mama.  We are all the better for having known you.