Interviewer’s Note:

It was an absolute pleasure speaking with this patient. I’d never met anyone with so many siblings. And out of all of them, she’s one of the only two left. I found it so powerful that no matter the situation, no matter the size, family is always family. You’ll still be there for them, and you’ll still treat them right.  

A Loving Environment

I was number 10 of 11 children, born into a family that didn’t have much money but had everything that really mattered. We lived in a small house, and sometimes the lights got cut off or we had to eat oatmeal for dinner, but it was a loving environment. My parents weren’t highly educated. My mother dropped out in fourth grade and my father made it to seventh, but they were good parents who did whatever they could for us.

My father was a longshoreman, a man of few words but deep respect. I never heard him use profanity, except for one time when he said “damn,” and I was shocked because he just never cussed, especially not around women and children. He took us to Sunday school and church every Sunday while my mother stayed home to cook. Both of my parents taught us that family comes first. You don’t put your family out.

We weren’t always all in the house together because we ranged so much in age. Some of my older siblings were old enough to be my parents and had already moved out. Two of my brothers were in the military. But those of us at home, we managed. We learned to work together, and my mother always used to say, “There’s always a way,” and she always made a way.

Losing My Mother

When I was 15, my mother passed away from cancer. Back in the 1960s, people didn’t know much about cancer, and I didn’t really understand death. I just knew she was going to be gone. That loss at such a young age taught me that sometimes you just have to let it go. You can’t bring that person back, so you have to learn how to deal with the loss.

I think losing my mother when I was so young prepared me for other losses in life. It made me realize that being upset when people pass away doesn’t change anything. You do the best you can for people while they’re here, and when they’re gone, you don’t have to be sorry if you know you did right by them.

Seeing What the World Was Like

After high school, I hung out for a while, just having fun with friends. I had been planning to go to college, but I wanted to see what the world was like first. Eventually, I had my daughter when I was 21, and then got married to her father. We had been living together as a couple, but when he decided to join the Muslims, he said we needed to be properly married. So we went down to the courthouse and made it official. Later, I had my son, but the marriage didn’t work out. We just didn’t make it as a couple, so I left with my two kids.

After my divorce, I met another man who lived with me for 17 years. We never married, but he became my best friend. He had a good sense of humor, would do anything I asked, and accepted my children as his own. He was a house painter with good skills, and when he got sick later in life, I took care of him because he didn’t have anyone else. When he passed away, I never cried, not because I didn’t love him, but because I knew I had done the best I could for him. I wasn’t sorry, not one day.

Work That Mattered

Throughout my life, I always worked. For years, I was a teacher’s assistant at a hospital, working with emotionally disturbed adolescents. I loved those children. To me, they were just kids, even though some thought they were grown because they’d been on the streets. Some had been through things no child should experience, but I was always there for them. I still think about some of those kids now, wondering where they are and what they’re doing.

I really formed emotional connections with them. I even had two girls stay at my house for a weekend. Being able to help those children gave me a sense of purpose. I loved the work because I love children, and I was always there for them when they needed someone.

I’ll Take Her

The thing I’m most proud of in my life happened when one of my nieces, who had mental health issues, gave birth to a baby girl who weighed only one pound and seven ounces. Nobody wanted to take this tiny baby, but I said I would. I was supposed to keep her for just 30 days, but when I brought her home at three pounds and fourteen ounces, she was so pretty and so little that I couldn’t let her go.

The doctors said she would be retarded, blind, and have all kinds of disabilities. They were wrong about everything. She’s now 37 years old, graduated from high school on time, went to college for four years, and then went back to get her master’s degree. She works for the state now and is doing great. She has two little dogs that she calls her children.

I took her because that’s how I was raised. Family comes first. My father used to say you don’t put your family out. I couldn’t let her be taken away by some unknown family and never see her again. The judge even commended me and my nephew’s godmother, saying we were two of the best people he’d had in his courtroom.

I Love You More

Love has been the constant thread throughout my life. I love my children, my grandchildren, and my great grandchildren. I have 11 great grandkids now, and one great granddaughter who was born on my father’s birthday, which makes her extra special to me. She’s about to turn 18 and go to college. She never got pregnant, never ran the streets, she’s at my door when she needs to be.

Growing up, my father taught us that if we had an argument during the day, we couldn’t go to bed at night until we apologized, hugged, kissed, and said “I love you.” To this day, when I’m on the phone with family, I always end the call with “I love you,” and if they say it first, I follow up with “I love you more.”

People gravitate toward me because I think I’m just a nice person. I’ve never been harmful, never hurt anybody, never been in a fight in my life. I don’t talk about people. I just let people do what they do and don’t comment because whatever they do, it’s not my business.

What Remains in the Heart

I’ve learned that life is about being gentle with yourself and others. Don’t step on nobody’s toes or get in anybody’s way. Just go with the flow, though you can’t always go with the flow because the flow isn’t always positive.

The most important thing is to love your children and family despite whatever problems they have. Make their problems your problems and help solve them. Never be sorry if you know you’ve done the best you could.

It’s been a good life. I’ve always felt alive, never had so much trauma that I couldn’t function. I think that comes from learning early that if you survive losing your mother, you can survive other losses too.

The roles that have mattered most to me are mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and friend. That’s how I was brought up, just loving your family, being there for people who need you. I hope people remember that I have love in my heart, that I was a good person who tried to help whereI could.

I don’t have many years left, but I’m not worried about the future. I’ve done what I needed to do, loved who I needed to love, and helped where I could help. That’s enough for any life.