“My mom always called me dandelion. I used to hate it, actually. God, I found it so embarrassing when she called me that in front of my friends. And they didn’t make it easy on me, by the way.”
I gave everyone a smile, chuckling slightly. The crowd nervously followed suit.
“I mean, yeah they were always teasing me and making fun of me about it. And it was annoying. And sometimes, I would think what my mom really meant: Dandelions are a weed, right? Nobody really wants them on their lawn. They get in the way, they end up killing everything around it. Sometimes, it really, really, felt like I was getting in my mom’s way. Destroying everything that she had going for her.”
I choked on my words, but I pushed through. There was a pressure behind my eyes, I could feel it. But I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of everyone.
“Ever since dad died… I lost my way. I became this person who nobody liked. Someone nobody wanted to be around. And I don’t know how it happened. How I became so easy to hate. So easy even I found myself hating who I saw in the mirror every damn morning.”
“And I forgot everyone else. I forgot my friends, school, and even her. Even my own mother. I mean, I couldn’t have even taken a moment to just thank her? To tell her I love her? To make sure that she was doing okay after she lost her husband of 19 years? What kind of child am I? But despite all my failings as a son, she forgave me. She still loved me.”
“And yet… I was so caught up in my own self-loathing I didn’t even notice. I just went on being the worst son a mother could ask for. Dad was everything to me. Without him, life just felt so empty. But only now do I realize that the void he left in my life was barren for so long only because I refused to let anything fill it up. And then I blamed everyone else for the void. The worst part is, I blamed her the most. The one person who stuck by me through thick and thin. The person who gave me my school lunch everyday with a smile on her face, even though I could hear her crying every night.”
The tears were beginning to push through. My voice kept cracking, but I tried my best to ignore it.
“But after all that, I resented her. I even blamed her for what happened. She was the reason my dad left that day. She had pissed him off about something, I don’t even remember. They were fighting and arguing and yelling and I just sat in my room, trying so hard not to cry. I covered my ears, blocking out the curses and threats. The sound of glass breaking and the door slamming. I knew my dad had left. I heard the car leave the driveway.”
I wiped the tear that had managed to leak from my left eye. My vision was becoming blurred with water.
“He left us that day. He gave up on us. I think… even if he hadn’t gotten into that crash, he wasn’t going to come back. But not my mom. She stayed. She raised me. She was strong. And somehow, I resented her and not the alcoholic, abusive father that abandoned us. I was so damn ungrateful and I don’t even-”
I took a step away from the podium as my voice cracked once more. I sniffled, taking a deep breath after. I wiped my eyes again.
“Sorry about that. I’m okay, I’m okay, don’t worry. I wish I could go back. I wish I could make things right. To let her know that I always loved her, even though I didn’t have the strength to show it. I just needed someone to blame. Because otherwise I would have blamed myself and I didn’t know if I could bear that guilt. I think she knew that, which is why she put up with me. I was so hard on her, man. I wish I could go back and just tell her I was grateful that she stayed and fought for us. I wish I could go back and make things easier for her. I didn’t want to be the weed that destroyed everything she worked to grow.”
I gazed at the sky above. It was a beautiful spring day: birds were chirping, the sun was out, and there was just the right amount of clouds. I breathed in the air, and felt the sun warming my face. I looked again at the crowd.
“But the more I think about it, the more I believe that’s not what she meant at all. I remember years ago, when I was really young, she used to call me her little fighter. And I always thought that I must have dropped so much in her eyes, to go from a fighter to a weed. Now, I realize I was wrong. See, dandelions are fighters too. No matter the conditions, no matter the climate, dandelions grow. They grow in concrete, in the sidewalk, in any little patch of dirt. All it takes is one dandelion and a bit of wind to take over. To my mom, I am that dandelion. Even after all our family has been through, both me and my mom grew. We fought. We had our flaws but we survived. And even though she’s not here anymore, I’m not going to let her fight go to waste. I will continue to grow. I will spread our stories and our love out into the world, let them travel far and wide. She was my inspiration. I think she can inspire kids like me across the world, so that every dandelion out there can grow and spread his or her story out into the world too.”
I think I was yelling at this point, but I don’t really remember. The crowd was cheering and clapping. I glanced back at my mom’s coffin. The lid was closed now. I hoped she was proud of me, wherever she was.
“That will be my mother’s legacy. And no matter what anyone says, I will always be her dandelion. Thank you.”