To be completely transparent, I hated my mom. In my adolescent mind, I was angry because how could you abandon your daughter? How could the streets be more important than your kids? The drugs can’t be that enticing. But I was young, naive, and didn’t know.
If I’m being real and raw, as my mom reached young adulthood, the alcohol and streets had already caught her attention. Growing up, I didn’t know the truth. I didn’t know everything that she had been through. I didn’t know everything that I know about arthrogryposis. For the longest, I blamed her for my disability. Not knowing, regardless my disability, was always part of God’s plan.
The stories and explanations that were given to me sounded as if she didn’t give a damn. For the longest, I wasn’t accepting anything negative that was being told to me about her. I loved my mom, and I wanted to be raised by her. I remember being in the yard with the dandelion flowers, making a wish that she’d come home and we could all be together.
But one day…a day I’ll never forget. It wasn’t long after my Uncle got married and my mom came over to visit. She walked into the kitchen and asked, “Where’s Daja?” BOOM! The start of the hate. How in the world do you carry a child for 9 months and not know who they are when you walk into a room?
Once I had my own phone and started driving, I was able to tap in with her more on a personal level. I was able to visit and call. I started to get the courage to ask questions that I always wanted to know. I learned that things weren’t just black and white.
My mom, Edwina “Chocolate” Daniel, died on August 6th, 2025, to breast cancer. For about 2 years up until that day, I felt like the Grinch. My heart grew three sizes for her. I instantly became compassionate, open-minded, and more understanding of her journey and the reasoning behind the decisions she made as an individual and mother.
During her final months, my anger came and went. I was angry because she was hard-headed and still did what she wanted to do despite the warnings and concerns from her doctors and loved ones. I was angry because she didn’t listen to the ones around her when we advised her to get checked out before it got as bad as it did.
I was there for my mom as much as I could be. In the beginning, I got questioned and side-eyed for how present I was. Honestly, I questioned myself a little. How has the tables turned? How am I being more present for her than she ever was for me? After so long, I didn’t question it anymore. I accepted it, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
The grief with her is different because it feels as if she was taken from me right when things were getting good. She’s not physically here, but I know she’s always with me.
I have my sister, who would kill me for saying it, but reminds me so much of her. I’ve been introduced to her chosen family that has shown me the same kind of love they showed her. My stepdad, the Clyde to her Bonnie, and I have my daddy, my twin, her baby daddy (: that she stayed close friends with until the end, and then there’s me…..her little great one.
There’s no denying that I am my mother’s child. In the words of my aunt, I’m little Chocolate. I like to go by my own rules as she did. I’m stubborn. I have her big heart, along with her big, loud personality, and when I love, I love hard, just like her.
She would always say, “just ride it out with me until the end,” and that’s what I did. We rode until the wheels stopped.
Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mama. I miss you. I love you.
#stillRising
#WhatstheDis
#stillRising 
Happy birthday Mama Chocolate 🍫 💕💕
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