(ThyBlackMan.com) Only by recognizing where we come from are we able to see where we must all go…..
We all have those stories of our families migrating from the south and moving up north to find better jobs and to flee the every growing racism that was unfolding in front of them. I can say a lot of things about my grandmother I can say how she couldn’t read or write, and at one point had a drinking problem, was mistreated more by some than she deserved and tolerated way more than I would. However; I could never say she was a shallow woman, an ungodly woman or a disrespectful woman. My grandmother although un-educated worked hard and taught us that you should. She would tell us how while living in Alabama she and her mother would share the same pair of shoes, my great grandmother would take them off so that my grandmother could go to work 
just so they could survive. My mother told me how they didn’t always have Christmas toys or trees but always had a clean home and food on the table.
My grandmother, a nursing home aide brought a house in 1976 and it still exists to this day. My grandmother sometimes a sad woman because of so much heartache and pain from the loss of her mother and three sons had the courage to stand up when others would sit down. I remember when her friend’s son was killed in Boston in a predominantly white neighborhood and she and I marched with them for justice. My grandmother when she was remembering things of the past and hard times in Alabama would sit and look out her kitchen window and say “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”. We would laugh. We didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. My grandmother, who could never read her own name, knew hers when she saw it and how to sign it too. My grandmother, daughter of Pinkie, Mother of Juanita and grandmother to Nicole was a strong woman, a mighty woman but more than anything she was a proud woman.
Defying the odds would be the easy thing to say confronting and overcoming them would be more like it. I remember when she used to tell us how she had a hard way to go but she still made it. People who knew her knew that she was a woman of such virtue. She told me don’t have more kids than I can handle so I only had three, she would say that you had to make your own way, so when I was able I went to college and earned my first degree, she would tell me that she would have to wash toilets and floors on her hands and knees but never that she didn’t want to work. She would say that we ain’t seen nothing until God makes his return and that it would be wars and rumors of wars before it was all said and done.
Mae Francis, as they called her was impeccable and resilient, strong and powerful and taught me so much. She’s gone now and that void that I have in my heart has been replaced with the energy to strive for more, become educated more, and learn more and to keep moving forward. I know that I still
have a long journey to make and could never walk in her shoes, but I am determined to make her proud and to let her know that while she had so many shortcomings and disappointments that she didn’t make the wrong choices, didn’t make too many mistakes and those that knew her were proud to say they knew Mae Francis. Her funeral was a testimony to that, the whole neighborhood stood up as we walked next door to the church for her funeral, I still remember coming outside and seeing so many people from her old friends to the young thugs paying respect to my grandmother.
My grandmother, who I would give anything to hear her voice, see her smile, and look in her eyes and to say to her without any doubt I loved her through thick and thin and knew that she loved me equally. I could cry everyday if I had to but I know that wasn’t my grandmother, she cried but kept walking, she fell down but still landed on her feet and for her I promise to always remember, never forget and to try desperately to learn how did she walk in those shoes.
Staff Writer; Nicole Moro
Also connect with this sister through Facebook; N. Moro.
