Cinco de Mayo is Not Just a Holiday for My Family

Cinco de Mayo represents the day when the Mexican militia accomplished something no one believed they could. Rightfully so, this day should be celebrated. But for me and my family, May 5th holds an entirely different purpose for celebration. It was the day in which the woman who nurtured all of us was born.

Our family matriarch was the rock we all grabbed hold of to keep us grounded. We all understood that when she spoke, we'd better listen because she wasn't saying it twice! Every holiday, we'd all flock to her house for a meal, some music, the occasional feud, and lots of unspoken love.

My grandmother’s house was my second home. I spent just as much time with her as I did my parents. Our neighbors’ kids thought I was my uncle’s sister. I might as well have been, I was raised at my grandmother’s knee. But I grew up and I moved away – across the country to be precise. Yet, every time I came home, she’d open the freezer and take out a container filled with collard greens that she saved for me because I couldn’t make it home for the holidays. I miss that.

Today, I miss her belting out my name, “Michele Renee!” because I did something I shouldn’t have. And how she used to roll  my cousin’s and my name all-in-one when it was time to come inside “Angie-n-Shelley!” Funny, it still rings in my ears today. I miss just sitting with her watching her favorite soap opera and listening to her argue with one of my aunts or uncles. Sometimes I really miss being able to climb into bed with her – just because… and she’d let me. When my grandfather was alive, he really didn’t mind much.

As I grew older and more distant, I saw less and less of her. Now I look back and am grateful for all the years I had with my grandmother – my granny. But I do regret all the times that I didn’t make it home to see her, especially toward the end when she breathed her last breath. I remember that day so vividly.

Since I’ve been back in my hometown, I really feel her absence. It’s strongest when I want to drive to her house to hang out with her or just dial the phone number she had all of my life and probably throughout my aunts’ and uncles’ lives, too.

Now, I just cherish my memories of her. And this day, Cinco de Mayo – is her day ~ the day that everyone in my family honored… the day the Lord breathed life into her nostrils as she entered the world. She was our anchor ~ our nurturer, our referee, our event planner, our rubber cement. Cinco de Mayo, a day that celebrates a little woman from Arkansas who accomplished more than she will ever know.