Deborah A. Wiley

A Tribute to Mama She walked with grace, stood tall with pride, A loving wife, a mother’s guide. In every room, she shined so bright— The best-dressed star, our guiding light. Her strength ran deep, a steady flame, Through storms and trials, she stayed the same. A warrior’s heart in heels and gold, With hands that healed and arms that hold. She taught us love, she taught us grace, And always wore a smiling face. No words can fill the space she’s left— A queen, a soul forever dressed. Though she’s gone, her spirit stays In all our hearts, through all our days. We carry her with every breath— Her love lives on, untouched by death. But what will holidays look like now? What about the day I walk down the aisle? What will it look like to not open the door when you’re dropped off to me? Who’ll jump in our talks when we’re spilling the tea? What will it be like Not singing to you, not hearing your laugh, You saying, “Girl, you silly,” What will it be like not asking , “Mom, who’s your favorite daughter—no really?” What about our siblings, Not hearing you ask, “Where’s Jermaine?” Even with dementia, that question stayed the same. What will it be like Without you bragging about Jr, Or Faricha asking, “Who you want me to beat up, homegirl?” Without you calling us “Dee Dee” every five minutes— And what will it be like For Dad to no longer have his wife? Dad—you are the blueprint of how to love for life. The definition of a man, a protector, a spouse, You showed us what it means to be the heart of a house. But Mama—this isn’t goodbye, not truly, not ever. Your love is a thread that time cannot sever. We’ll honor your name with strength and with pride, Carry your light and keep you alive. So rest now, Queen—you’ve earned your crown. Your legacy stands; it won’t back down. You built this love, this bond, this pride— Forever as a family, we rise. We ride.

By Jayme Wiley

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