It was twenty days after my 50th birthday. January 19, 2013 at about 9:00pm. That was when my adopted mom, Guynell, died. She had “adopted” me in her heart years earlier when I was in college. I remember after she died, walking outside on that chilly night, waiting for the coroner to arrive at the home. I was struck by how large the world suddenly felt and how small I felt in comparison.
My biological family was dysfunctional, hostile and demeaning. So, when Guynell “adopted” me and became the embodiment of parental love in my life, my heart was overjoyed. We had a special connection, because she CHOSE to love me, when my mother could not muster anything more than mere ownership of me. Guynell did not HAVE to … She WANTED to. For a young female who had been repeatedly told I was the greatest disappointment in the life of my parents, this love was treasured and overwhelming.
She had three biological girls of her own and naturally did maternal things. She made sure I had a stocking on the mantel each Christmas. She sent birthday cards, Christmas cards and “just because” cards. She told me she was proud of me. She was interested in me and my life. She remembered things that were important to me. She listened, intent on hearing, when I talked to her. She gave of herself, her heart and her time. She was a safe harbor. She not only told me she loved me, but unwaveringly acted on that love in practical, measurable ways.
To have Guynell as a guide into young adulthood was a game changer. At a time when I was uncertain of how to be an adult and was grasping for a true north, she became a consistent constant in my life. Guynell saw her girls, myself included, through a realistic lens. She knew each of our short comings and she knew our strengths. In her infinite grace, she focused on our strengths and generally any “ask” she had of us was strength based. She expected her girls behave in a respectable, kind, honest and Christ-like manner. However, when one of us fell short, we were met with nothing other than grace and love. Consequences of poor choices might very well be forthcoming, but we always had her love and support to navigate those bumpy paths. She always made sure we understood the difference between a disappointment in a specific behavior or choice and a disappointment in us as humans. We all behaved in ways, at one time or another, she wished we had not; but her love never changed.
She had an infectious smile, a positive attitude and a compassionate heart. When she took her last breath on that January night, I was genuinely relieved her suffering was over, but I felt so small. So insecure. So alone. It was as if my world stopped momentarily and time stood still.
Being listed as her daughter in the obituary was one of the most cherished honors of my life.
Little did I know Guynell’s death would be the first of many emotional hits coming my way …