A Day to Remember: A Tribute to a Wonderful Mother

I have paused in reflection and reverence of you, often, but I have come to truly pause and sit in deep reflection since May 2, 2023. It would rob you of your due diligence for me to merely say, “to know her was to love her,” because to know you so much more than knowing love.

At the precipice of 23 years of being a part of your family, I can recall watching you as you gracefully took on cancer. I was never looking to pinpoint a weakness, but I was always laser-focused to mimic your strength. Each week that Nygel was a SCSU after the news broke, I waited for a time where you would be too weak to make the drive. It never happened. Week after week, the Escalade was in the wind headed to Orangeburg with a heart full of love and a truck filled with a feast that literally fed the masses. As we racked our brains to think of was to be of support to you, you were the one caring for us. I still have no clue how you did it, but the lesson lies in the fact that you did. The lesson is in the prayers that I pray asking that God allows me to present with half the strength that you did while you were here with us. You never tired. Even when the last breath was yours to take, you did so with the same style and grace that you displayed with every shift of the sails in your life.

To know you was to know strength...

I thought that I would not only lose my footing but lose my mind in 2020 and 2021. I was so close to being in a very dark place with all the death and changes that I had to adjust to rather quickly. And with each tear that I cried, face-to-face talk we had, or phone call where I shared how perplexed another occurrence with death or sickness left me, you responded with a softly spoken word of reassurance, and then your love showed up in person. From each meal cooked for my family, to the visits you made in my absence because of juggling my personal family or obligations with work, you showed me compassion and how to love from a place of showing up for those I care deeply for. You did more than talk about being there for others; it was a sure thing that you did. Daily.

To know you was to know compassion...

I can recall calling you and PaPa last November after being so busy and forgetting that Grayson and Addison were two days away from a Grandparent’s Day celebration at school. I always shared the happenings with the kids with you, and if I didn’t, I knew you’d be asking for an update. With the hugest lump in my throat after hearing you answer the Facetime call, “helloooo,” I started to share that I was not expecting you and Pops to make it to Salisbury, but I wanted to let you know that I’d forgotten. Without a moment of hesitation, you shared, “we’ll be there tomorrow!” I was worried about who would manage the fish market or if PaPa would be able to drive the whole way since his hand surgery, and you quieted all of my questions and concerns. And like clockwork, you literally were there the next afternoon, meeting me as I pulled into the garage with the biggest smile. I knew you weren’t feeling the best either, yet you still you showed up for me. For us.

To know you was to know selflessness...

I sat in awe of the love that poured in for you after you transitioned from glory to Glory. You brought the young and the old. The near and far. Former students to members of clergy that had only heard of you or seen you a few times. You were given your flowers while you lived, and in your absence from earth, you were still receiving them. Just this weekend, I was able to read a card of condolences from a former student of yours that lives in Maine. She said she’d never forget you because, “you brought me my first brand new outfit.” That comment not only spoke to the fashionista in you, but it spoke to your heart of service and the drive that you had to go the extra mile for any and everyone attached to you. And to know that you served in education for over 40 years speaks more deeply to how involved in making an impact you were.

To know you was to know dedication...

During one of the last hospital stays I shared with you, we talked so much about “the push” and how sometimes it was absolutely necessary while others times it was important to grace yourself. You wanted more than anything to ensure that we knew that you had the fight in you, and you were committed to doing whatever was necessary for “the grans.” Oh, we were very clear of how you fought for yourself but mostly importantly for Nathan, Grace, Grayson and Addison. I laughed with Pops about how we just stopped uttering no to you about your purchases for your babies. You trotted to your own beat, and we certainly let you do whatever you wanted for the kids. I, for one, knew, I would not win any logical dialogue explaining to you why the kids didn’t need one more Lego set (Grayson) or anymore Barbies with wardrobe changes (Addison). And the lesson there was that if you so want a thing, work hard until you receive the yes desired.

To know you was to know persistence...

And my prayer now is that I, too, can be the type of mother and wife that you were.

To a great, great woman- petite in posture, stern and structured but with a heart larger than life, may you rest in supreme God-given power. You are free! You have shown me what it means to bare the gifts that God assigns to ones’ hands while living, and to leave this life void of them all because they have been used for the advancement of The Kingdom.

To know you was to know peace that surpassed everyone’s understanding. You, Bettie S. Pearson, you made a tremendous, legacy-filled mark.

And at the very least, the place that God calls to my remembrance as I reflect on your life was to acknowledge that to know you was to know love. You were love personified.

On this day and every year forward for the rest of my life on this side, Happy, Happy Mother’s Day to you.