My mom died a few days ago. Generally I try to keep private things private and probably would have continued doing so had it not been for those waves, those unexpected bomboras of grief that were breaking me down. A friend of ours posted photos she’d taken of my mom several years ago. The photos showed a mom I little recognized. They were all taken on the same evening yet in every photo my mom projected a different persona as if she were a little girl playing dress up or an influencer posing for Instagram. The photographer had given my mom a chance to play make-believe and my mom was having a grand time exposing a woman full of flare, spontaneity, and imagination.
How beautiful, how glamourous, how playful she was. When I was a child, my mom didn’t have much time for play because she was a single parent busy working to maintain the two of us. But these photos made me realize that my mom hadn’t played for lack of desire but, as with many other women in her position, was left with few options because of her condition of possibility.
A condition of possibility is that which is indispensable for the existence of something else. For example, a plant that’s not watered doesn’t have the same condition of possibility as one that is. We can also apply this concept to people and, in particular, to women whose condition of possibility was radically changed with the male invention of the patriarchal society. Women, once permitted to be goddesses, were now considered inferior to men. And this, obviously, greatly reduced a woman’s condition of possibility. In essence, women have not been given the same possibility for success that men have been given regardless as to whether or not they deserved it.
When I was younger, I didn’t realized all of the struggles my mom had to face for our survival. Now I do.
Mark Twain once said humorously: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”
The photos mentioned above provoked something inside of me that makes me want to show my appreciation for my mom’s efforts and for the efforts of all single moms. Thus “Toni O”, a new series of posts with the intent of changing my mom’s condition of possibility via storytelling so my mom can finally be the star that she deserved to be.
The Narrative Within 
We are so sorry about your Mom’s death, Cynthia. Wasn’t she here in SA? Is there anything I can do for you here?
Sherry, just your asking helps me. You have always been and continue to be a woman with a generous heart….thank you.
Sorry for your loss. As all single mothers are remarkable, she sounds like a remarkable woman who in turn had a remarkable daughter.
Thanks Rose…you are always so supportive.
Love that photo. 🙂
Yes, the photographer got right to her core….
You are remarkable, as was your mom! The fact that her passing and your talent for writing will awaken the goddess in us all, is a gift. Thank you for sharing.
Debbie, you’ve always given me the impression of being a goddess already! My mom loved you and really enjoyed being friends with you. Thank you for all the positive vibes you brought into her life.
A lovely tribute for a strong, creative Mother by her legacy.
So saddened to hear of your loss.
Peace & love be with you today & always dear Cynthia.
Mille grazie…thanks for such a lovely thought…peace and love forever for us all!
I am so sorry to hear of your mom’s passing! You description of a single mom is so perfect. I also experienced the same single motherhood-ness. I think we learned much from them! xoxoxo
Thanks for writing…maybe it’s from our mothers we learned the importance of taking a stance and not being afraid to speak out when necessary. ♥️
Bravissimo, your mom would love this, as do I!!!
Thank you for making it possible ❤️
lovely attempt to capture your mother’s essence.
Mille grazie Angie.
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