Agnes Sappleton

My mother Agnes was a woman that loved me way beyond herself. With my father taken by a car collision, she never once waivered in showing me that there was nothing in this world more important than me. The memories I have of her are good ones, the kind of memories that make me miss her all the more, and make me smile at the thought of her every time. I was the third of three children that she had, the first, passing only hours after his birth, the second passing only days. I really don't know what made her keep trying, but GOD definetly meant for me to be here, and I am unspeakably greatful to her for having me. She raised me in a way rarley seen in parenting these days, with all the negative media and odds stacked against us as a people period. Agnes (my mother) was sefless, caring, involved, and tireless in my upbringing, and never turned her back on me, or gave up on me, no matter what situation or circumstance she herself may have been facing at the time. A single mom, working on Wall Street, somehow always making ends meet,while rasing an african american male in new york city is far more than commendable. I saw the perfect example of beauty when I looked at her, her thick black hair, her fair skin, and that west indies accent that sang of love and commanded response all at the same time. I will never forget her face, soft and full, bright eyes that seemed to tell her my plans when she loked at me. Hands that painted every dish she made with love, and dressed every cut or scrape I was determined to convice her was a wound. I can still hear her voice singing the way she did, songs of joy and freedom, songs of praise and worship, good things, floating on the sweetest voice I will ever hear. I remember how she would tell me the stories of family members that I'm not sure I'll ever get to meet, how her smile became the perfect dance partner for her eyes as she spoke of our people, her british father, her miracle brother, and her aunts and uncles where she grew up in Trinidad. I often wonder what it would be like to still have her here, to be able to visit again, to have her here for mother's day, and what it would be like to see her and my fiance's mom interact. I for one belive it would be awesome to see the two of them together. My mom was an english teacher amongst other things, and that in itself is an accomplishment for someone not born in the sates. I've always been proud of her, and always respected the way she carried herself. My mother was trully one of a kind and I've never met aonther woman in my life that could compare to her. I guess that's how all sons should feel about good mothers. I hope to one day maybe find and get in touch with someone from her side of the family that  I could connect with. A distant relative, maybe from her british roots, that I could actuaaly call family, and form some sort of relationship and bond with, that would mean the world to me. This story was long overdue, me being thrown in and out of life's tornado's, scratching to find a way, and my purpose, but I am glad, and proud to claim my mother after 20 long years of not knowing where she was, and fighting through this life of mine. I'm not going to talk about the bad things that happened to me, because this is not about me, it's about her, my mother, and there's no room for any ill feelings towards anyone, or any place in my heart to focus on any of the things that made me hurt for so long after she passed. With all that is going on in this crazy world, I can sincerly say that I believe she is in a better place than this. So, until the day I see her again, and hear her voice, and get to hold her and walk with her, I'll just say, I'll see you later mom, I love you, and I always will.