She Doesn't Stand Alone
Happy birthday. Here is a poem I wrote for you. Hope you like it.
My mom isn’t a flag, or a symbol, or an acronym. She is actually similar to something resembling my bottom limb. She helped me learn how to swim.
She is not my savior, but she is my partner. And now for all the times she has supported me, it is my duty to guard her. She doesn’t need it. She stands on her own. I just want to make sure she doesn’t stand alone.
Her former partner departed, a cancerous tumor taking her away long before important discussions between individuals in black robes started.
In 2016 the Supreme Court finally made their decision, and made America a better place for families like mine to live in.
Years before that my moms decided that their house would be the one to raise a particular kid in.
We fell in love with one another before much of the paperwork was written. We remained with each other and our life—smitten, even after a court changed their initial position, those in power rejecting a well-planned adoption submission.
We fought the case. We won. But in a few short years our family number would decrease by one. It was at this time that my mom took on the task of raising her only son. A middle school student who’s journey to young adulthood had just begun.
A single mom she became, running to every practice and soccer game. Her life became a whirlwind, a balancing act, and somehow one that she managed with great tact. Was their relationship perfect? No. But she knew the effort she put into it was worth it.
From DC to her hometown of Hackensack, she had always put the troubles of others on her back.
Rarely the most vocal
But speaking through her actions
She defended children from negative interactions
And from dangerous distractions
From state to local
She created reports on child gun death totals
One of the first in her field to yield such results
Helping us realize that our nations violent gun colt
Did more than affect adults
5,000 child deaths by gunfire in 1995
She knew more children needed to survive
And so she strived to help them
Diligently coding data the same way her mom, a librarian, might have looked up books
Finding errors in existing research
That others might have overlooked
A special mind
And a woman possessing a heart
That is even harder to find
Her only son would know best
He had seen her navigate life’s mess
And keep the most important thing a human can possess
A spirit that still advocates for children
A spirit that still gives to homeless pet shelters
A spirit that still writes letters to her local representatives about the issues important to her
And a spirit that still loves her son
Who’s journey through life
Has just begun.
written by Tony Hynes