My Mother's Strength: A Sister's Love (Part II)

I wasn’t the only one Mom aimed to protect. When Mom passed away, Auntie Toya was relieved she didn’t have to see it either. Auntie Toya was like a daughter to Mom. They were 17 years apart in age. Growing up, Auntie Toya was the sweet little sister who watched her cool big sister live her best life. She said Mom would watch All My Children every day, sing in her room, and go out with her friends. Mom was confident, popular, and outgoing. Auntie Toya was excited about any slice of time she got with Mom. She looked up to her. Auntie Toya said, “She was perfect to me.” 

Grandma Annette, Auntie Toya, and Auntie Kenia moved in with my parents when they fell on hard times. Mom started to change from cool big sister to a mother figure. Mom would comb her sisters’ hair and get them ready for school. Auntie Toya would play in Mom’s bracelets and makeup. They spent quality time together.  When Grandma Annette was ready to move out and take the girls, Mom asked if she could raise Auntie Toya and Auntie Kenia. Grandma Annette didn’t want Mom, only 26 at the time, to take on that responsibility; however, Mom was determined to make an impact. She had specific ideas about how she wanted her sisters to be raised—ideas that extended to the way she raised me. 

Education was key. Auntie Toya spent her freshman year at an inner city high school in South LA. It suffered from the problems that most schools in the hood face—lack of resources and support, gang violence, and a depressed local economy. Mom pulled her out of that school, and my parents paid for private school. Although Mom didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, she wanted to make sure her family would. Mom used to make that hour drive from mid-city Los Angeles to Compton every day just to make sure Auntie Toya made it to school safely and on time. She also wanted Auntie Toya to have nice things for special occasions, like the custom-made prom dress that Auntie Toya and I now think was a fashion faux pas. It was fluffy with lots of sequins (i.e., gaudy).  Yet, at the time, it made Auntie Toya feel special. 

As they grew older, their mother-daughter/sister-sister relationship deepened. Every Wednesday, they’d go to bible study, have lunch, and somehow always end up at IKEA—just the two of them. IKEA was the usual rendezvous point because they both had an eye for interior design (on a budget, of course). Everyone knew that day was reserved for sister time. Despite their close bond, Mom decided not to tell Auntie Toya about the severity of her illness. 

When I found out that Auntie Toya did not know about Mom’s condition, Mom and I had an intense conversation. Auntie Toya was Mom’s only sister, so I thought Auntie Toya should know. I knew she would want to be there to support Mom. Dad agreed with me; he had discussions with Mom too. Mom said Auntie Toya knew enough and that she did not want to worry her little sister. I think the only reason Mom shared she was sick with me is because I told her a few years ago that she needed to share health and financial issues that might arise. I told her I was an adult, one in a position to help. I can’t remember what prompted that conversation, but I’m grateful we had it. 

When I urged Mom to tell Auntie Toya about her cancer, Mom snapped at me. I didn’t snap back. Under normal circumstances, I would have. We had that kind of relationship. We could be honest with one another, even if we disagreed. I didn’t want to fight with Mom or stress her out. I knew our time could be limited, and she was carrying things I could never understand. I was also beginning to understand that protecting others’ sense of peace was a big part of her strength. 

Dad and I decided to tell Auntie Toya when Mom’s health really declined. She had mixed emotions about finding out so late. She knew Mom wasn’t telling her everything that year. Mom talked really fast when she mentioned her hysterectomy and the removal of a “mass.” Mom never used the word “tumor.” It just didn’t fit within her style of positive framing. She said she was fine a number of times, which made Auntie Toya sense she was not fine. Auntie Toya thought Mom would open up when she was ready. When Auntie Toya found out Mom was sick, part of Auntie Toya was hurt. She thought: Wow, how could she not tell me? I’m her sister. We had already lost a sister (Auntie Kenia) so suddenly. 

At the same time, Auntie Toya understood Mom. Mom was a positive woman of admirable faith. Mom probably didn’t even think Auntie Toya was going to lose another sister. Mom wanted to spare her from this thought and remain focused on her own healing. She often talked about sharing her testimony once she got to the other side. She said she was going to share it on TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network). Then, she could share her testimony with her little sister and the lessons she learned along the way.  

Instead, we all may have learned some different lessons. With little time to process everything, Auntie Toya decided to show up and lean in. When Auntie Toya first visited Mom at the hospital, she decorated her room with fresh flowers and photos of family members. She also brought Mom cozy blankets and socks. Mom said, “I’m so glad my baby sister is here. She knows what to do.” Translation: Y'all need some help! Mom was right; Dad and I were floundering on our own. Dad, Auntie Toya, and I were a good team. We delegated tasks to other family members to keep the caregiving and treatment machine running.

Auntie Toya’s role was invaluable. She had something Dad and I didn’t have—a mother’s touch. Having raised two kids (including Auntie Kenia’s youngest daughter), Auntie Toya did know what to do. After making the hospital feel more like home, she worked with the rest of the aunties to prepare Mom’s room for her arrival. There were more family photos, flowers, scriptures, uplifting quotes, and purple. She decorated a Christmas tree, so Mom could feel the holiday spirit. She led the caregiving hiring process and stepped in to care for Mom, herself. She understood how to talk to Mom when Mom got irritated and started feeling the effects of the medicine. She would read Mom scriptures, wash her, feed her, and make sure she had stylish head wraps and gowns. Mom would often tell her, “You’re doing a good job. I love how you take care of me.”

I realized that Mom would have never been able to utter these words of appreciation if Auntie Toya didn’t know she was sick. Auntie Toya would have never gotten that precious time with Mom. Mom would have never gotten to experience Auntie Toya’s love and care from this unique vantage point. Sometimes, the person you want to protect the most is the person that could provide the most help. While the line between protection and vulnerability is often a thin one, especially from a mother/big sister’s perspective, there is a time and place for everything. It was time for Mom to let Auntie Toya in. 

I watched Mom evolve and learn to be more vulnerable. Although she still exhibited signs of the protector Auntie Toya and I have always known, she let us take care of her. Ironically, Mom would always tell me to accept help if someone offers it. I used to feel bad about receiving help; I liked to do things on my own. I must have gotten that from her. She’d say, “You better receive the blessing!” Fortunately, Mom was finally able to take her own advice. She received one of the greatest blessings in her time of need—a sister’s love.