GRATEFUL BEGINNINGS
My story begins in the small town of Anderson, South Carolina, where I was born as the ninth of ten siblings. Our household was always lively and filled with energy, with six boys and four girls running around. My older siblings often took care of us younger ones while our father worked tirelessly, and my mother managed both domestic duties and watched over other people’s children. They instilled in us the importance of respecting our elders, and keeping an orderly home was a shared family responsibility.
Dad was a towering figure at six feet four inches and weighed 230 pounds, while Mom stood at just 5’3” and weighed 130 pounds. Despite his intimidating presence, my siblings and I unanimously agreed that it was Mom you didn’t want to cross! She was serious about our education and pushed us to excel in school. Neither of our parents had the luxury of higher education; Dad never learned to read, and Mom left school after the ninth grade to work. Looking back, I realize how challenging it must have been for them to raise ten children, but during those years, my memories of growing up in Anderson are predominantly joyful.
JOY SHATTERED
That joy, however, was shattered when I was eight years old. Dad loved to play with me, and I adored our moments together. He knew I hated his stubble and would often try to sneak in a hug, only to be met with my protests. He would sometimes pretend to be asleep when I came to wake him, but as soon as I moved in to shake him awake, he’d leap up, tickling me and laughing. One fateful morning, though, the playfulness was gone. When I tried to wake him, there was no jump, no laughter—he was still. I remember my oldest sister calling out to me to come out of the room, and then she screamed for Mother..
Dad had suffered a massive heart attack. His sudden absence filled me with anxiety—an irrational fear that I could lose my mother in the same way. Some nights, I would tiptoe into her room to check if she was breathing. I often got in trouble for waking her, but the peace of knowing she was alive made the risk worthwhile.
As life moved forward, older siblings took on jobs to support our family, while Mother worked tirelessly. With each graduation, some left for the military, while others headed to college, and gradually the house grew quieter. Eventually, I reached the age to start working and began covering my school expenses, all out of love and a deep desire not to burden my mother.
THE SKY WAS PURPLE
I witnessed many sacrifices Mother made for us, especially as one of the last to leave home. Her determination and love shaped who I became. I never wanted to disappoint her. I never argued with her for that reason. If she insisted the sky was purple, I would agree with her 100%!
Even into adulthood, I sought her blessing for every big decision, such as moving for a new job or taking on more responsibilities. The thought of disappointing her weighed heavily on me, influencing my decision to have a traditional wedding rather than eloping, as I knew she longed to see me walk down the aisle. Mother’s love for her children was not often verbalized, but her actions spoke volumes.
THE LOVE OF MY LIFE
In 2011, Mom was diagnosed with early-stage dementia. By 2016, the doctor grimly informed us she might only have six months. I returned home for Christmas, and it was painfully evident that her time was limited. After the holiday, I returned to work but went back to her bedside on January 4th. I talked to her for hours, holding her hands and crying, feeling profoundly grief-stricken and desperate for more time. I made plans to return early the next day but overslept, awakening to the news that she had passed between 5:30 and 6:00 AM. True to form, it seemed she was still caring for me, choosing to leave before I returned.
Mother passed away on January 5th, 2017. After her death, I found myself lost—unable to think or function at work, feeling as if nothing mattered. In March, I took a long vacation to pray and meditate, seeking to find closure and the strength to move forward without her. I leaned into my faith and was able to return to life and work.
I still miss Mother. Lula Mae Valentine was the love of my life.
The story that I share is one of family, love, and grief. I’m not sure I have any words of wisdom to share here. But what I can tell you is that grief can be devastating. Grief can impact your diet, cause insomnia, cause depression, leave you feeling hopeless, and feeling lost. If you have a faith, rely on it. Also, allow safe and trusted people to help. And lastly, don’t be afraid to seek professional help if needed.
“Grief and gratitude are kindred souls, each pointing you to the beauty of what is transient and given to us by grace”
— Patricia Campbell Carlson.
Bernice Valentine-Watts
Jenn snaps a selfie with Bernice during the Journey Project & 13th Anniversary Celebration Event July 2025
Interview and rewrite by Cee Johnson, Fit Chicks Community Manager