True Grit

A lot of people don’t understand that the first generation immigrant gets to see both sides of the world. I get to see the side of an American, and I get to see the side of an immigrant. That gives me a lot of clarity and purpose. I have written about my Dad before, and how he is my hero. My mother’s story is very different, but no less important to the way my perspective on life, mindset, and a forward focus has been shaped.

My Mom went from an abundance her whole life, to nothing when she came to live in America. I commend her and I really respect her for what she has persevered through. My Mom is the embodiment of survival, sacrifice, and tenacity. 

She left a life of comfort and contentment as a teacher in Cuba. When she came to America she worked as a maid, at a brassiere plant here in Atlanta, and finally accepted a position as a teacher’s aide because they wouldn't honor her teaching degree.

She did it for the sake of her family. She could be home just after 3:00 to help me out after school, and help out my grandparents as they got older. My father was self employed and we needed insurance. At that time we didn’t have the availability of insurance like we do today, so she sacrificed her dream so she could help provide that for the family. My mom stayed on as a teacher’s aide even though she was just as capable and knew just as much as- if not more than- the teachers at that time, because it was what worked for our family then.

In 1994 her dreams came to a screeching halt when she found out she had stage 4 breast cancer and they gave her 6 months to live. My father had the opportunity to pay 20% out of pocket for an experimental procedure that had been netting good results. So he saved up and paid 100,000 for a half million dollar procedure. Mom ended up having the cancerous tissue and lymph nodes removed and I remember how scary it was to think I was going to lose my mother at 18. But I didn’t. She went into remission in 1995, but she had to take a year off to recover. When she finally went back to work her energy was just depleted. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was pretty traumatic and I don’t think she was ever the same.

 In 2010 she was diagnosed a second time and went into remission again in 2011. Luckily she had regular exams and caught it early. Here we are now, a decade after her second diagnosis, I have to reflect on the mark my mother has left in my life.

Dad always had an air of positivity. He loved America, and was proud of what he built here. He didn't come from a lot. Cuba was a jail to him. Here in America, he made what he had himself, and felt like freedom was the gift. 

Mom, on the other hand, never got over the past and still mourns it. She grew up a debutante in Cuba and had everything taken away. She speaks about it often still today even though she came to this country a lifetime ago. I tried to remind her of that, and her response stopped me in my tracks.

“What would you do if you lost America?”

I may not fully understand the past that she yearns for, because I am a firm believer that you can’t reach what’s in front of you until you let go of what's behind you. But I appreciate the footprints of strength that her legacy has helped shape in me. Mental health and positive mindset have been passions of mine, and I recognize that my mother has struggled with both. 

I've learned to appreciate who she is and what she has been through. I have the utmost respect for her. Even though our attitudes about life can be in direct opposition to one another. I have learned that while growth and change can be painful, nothing is as painful as being stuck looking back where you don’t belong. We are working together on moving forward. As Robert Frost says - “In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”