That was the last time I saw Mama really carefree, not in pain, but enjoying the breeze, enjoying her time with her girls. We didn’t think about the cancer on that trip. We just hung out together and truly enjoyed each other’s company. I felt so close to her, and to my girls; a true sense of peace that I had not felt in as long as I can remember.

No longer an obligation ... 

I grew up as an only child in a single-parent household. My Mama was always at work, or with her friends. The responsibility that comes along with caring for yourself as a child, cooking your own dinner, and washing your own clothes ingrained in me an attitude of “get the business done first.”

It had to be that way, or I would suffer. I would be hungry, or I would have to wear dirty clothes to school. I wasn’t exactly a wallflower, but I stood back and took things in, assessed the situation, and was on guard, in case there was any danger lurking.

The only time I didn’t feel that pressure, at least not overwhelmingly so, was when my mind was so excited by the possibilities of adventure. Like as a seven year old, I took a plane alone across the country, from Louisiana to Tennessee, and returned on a Greyhound bus.  

I was invigorated and in awe of my surroundings. Taking in everything that I could possibly learn from the experience. Seeing new places brought me into the pages of a book, a story that I did not know the answer to, a mystery that would unfold before my eyes.

This trip with Mama was no different. It awakened the adventurer in me, re-opened my eyes to the beauty in the world, and I saw my family as a unit that loves and supports each other. Watching my daughters help my mother off the last steps of the boat made me see how fragile she had become. I saw spending time with family not as an obligation, but the true desire to be with each other.

We held our adventure dear to our hearts, but it did not change our behavior. Real life soon took over. I worked up until the last minute on each subsequent holiday, showing up just to fulfill my family obligation. The girls did the same. The numbness of life’s responsibilities had set in.

So had Mama’s cancer … treatment after treatment was failing. 

Introducing The Annual Great Mother's Day Adventure

The following year, my mother’s sister, Fay, rented a beach house in Galveston. The entire extended family was invited, and it was the first time that we had all been together since my grandmother had died.

Aunt Fay was there, with her daughter, Kay, and her children. My Uncle, Tommy, and his family were there, and of course, my Mama, Mandi and her husband, and me. Candi was pregnant with her first child and could not attend. Mama announced that we would come back, once the baby was born, for the 2nd Annual Great Mother’s Day Adventure.

We all sat down to enjoy dinner. We’d had a memorable day together. Being there, in that huge house, voices laughing in every corner, memories being shared, walks on the beach, felt like a scene in a Lifetime movie. Everyone was videoing everyone else videoing them. But there was an odd feeling hanging in the air, like the feeling when everyone gets together after a funeral. Happiness in the memories, sorrow at what has been lost. 

My Aunt stood up from the table. “I want to make a speech,” she announced. It was a kind of clank on the wine glass at a wedding reception moment. The house quickly quietened down. She thanked everyone for coming and reminded us of the importance of family.

2nd Annual Great Mother’s Day Adventure

Those last months with Mama were a struggle. I willed her to get up. I brought her spaghetti - her favorite, but she wouldn’t eat. I brought her new clean pajamas, but she was too tired to go put them on.  

When Mother’s Day rolled around again, though Mama was weak, she remembered the promise of a 2nd Annual Great Mother’s Day Adventure. I was shocked. I wondered how in the world she was going to “do” Galveston when she couldn’t even put on her new pajamas. But she wanted to celebrate, she wanted to be with her family, and she found a way. One afternoon on that trip, we took lunch together at the Rainforest Café. 

Mama ate hardly anything. We headed back to the car, which had been parked on a steep incline, and I watched Mama fall. I could hardly breathe as I watched my frail mother roll down the street before I could grab her. Her legs, face, and arm were covered with abrasions from the fall, and she was bleeding heavily from her knee.

Mama died a couple of months later. I was with her, alone in her room when she passed.  It meant a lot to me that she had been the one with me when I took my first breath, and I was with her when she took her last.

Mama's Great Mother's Day Adventure Becomes Tradition

The following year, when Mother’s Day came, there was emptiness. The longing for a little more time. The longing for her laughter, for someone to visit and bring a present to.

Then we remembered. The Great Mother’s Day Adventure. We would go again in her memory.  The girls and I went back to Galveston, this time with Candi’s two children. We felt that togetherness that we had on our first trip to the Atchafalaya Basin. We bonded. We laughed, we cried.

The following year, it was a given. We were going on the Great Mother’s Day Adventure. Year after year we continued the tradition of Mama’s Great Mother’s Day Adventure. Mama’s Great Mother’s Day Adventure started as a girl’s day out. Now, my son, Andrew, and all my grandchildren join us. 

Did my Mama know she’d start a tradition?  Did Mama know that our first adventure would change our family for generations to come? 

This year we are planning our 16th Annual Great Mother’s Day Adventure. I have faith that my children will continue to honor our Annual Great Mother’s Day Adventure and pass on the legacy to their children.

Thank you, Mama. You taught me to slow down. You taught me the importance of taking time for family while we are alive. That we should never be too busy for family, or look at our time together as an obligation. Family is everything. 

Dear Mama, may your Great Mother’s Day Adventure endure as you do in our hearts. 

My future plans, other than the Great Mother’s Day Adventure, are to travel the country, inspiring other women to reach for their joy while experiencing the thrill of the ride.

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