As of April 26, it’s been a year since my mother passed away, in front of me. I survived like I knew I would, I survived like my mother insisted I do.

When my mom first died, after a couple weeks, I felt rudderless. How am I supposed to do any of this shit without my mom’s thoughts on….anything? I internalized the things she spent her life trying to show me, and I now live in a state of knowing. I know what she thinks. But more importantly, I know what I think. I 100 percent believe in the things I do and the way I carry myself. Her guidance is coming from beyond but it’s also coming from within; I am my mother and she is me. I always knew the way; I am just walking it on my own now.

I always feel the presence of my mother, except when I want to talk to her about my day-to-day life, which was my favorite thing to do. My life has always been ridiculous, and my mother loved my outrageous tales, and my boring ass tales, too. When I feel the urge to tell her about work, or foolishness my friends do, or whatever girl-related bullshit I’ve stumbled into, that’s when I remember she’s gone. There’s no replacement for that. There will never be another Randy Seabrook.

In that same breath, I see my mother everywhere. Oddly enough, it feels very natural to me, to hear her voice in my head, to hear her laugh, to see her in flowers, or cats staring at me in the street (her favorite pet), to be reminded of her by other people. It’s supposed to be like this. I could never be alone.

A little under a month ago, I was walking to the gym in my neighborhood (all I do is lift, work, read, flirt and play PS5) as I always seem to be doing. From about a block away, I saw a small elderly woman dragging her recycle bin to the curb. As I got closer, I asked if she needed some help. As I stood about 3 feet away, I realized she looked like my mother. Same skin, same eyes, same grace and joy. She did need help, so I rolled the bin back inside of her gate. I noticed she had a cane, so I reached out and held her hand to guide her safely back to the front of her house. I didn’t know her at all, and we’ve never seen each other, but my hand going out to hold hers was automatic. I knew she needed the help, but I needed it too. I needed to feel the appreciation of an elder again; it truly felt like I was helping my mom when I held her hand. My mother always helped EVERYONE, and my actions that day felt like an extension of both who she is, and who she wanted me to be. After I told her goodbye, I walked away and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I got myself together but that moment really moved me, and felt like something my mother orchestrated from afar. I was placed on that block, at that very moment, to have that experience.

Emotionally, I am much better than I was a year ago. But sometimes, I still feel those pangs of not wanting to go anywhere, the smallest thing will make me want to put on my HOME SWEATPANTS instead of my OUTDOOR JEANS. A few weeks go, I was supposed to go meet my friends in Crown Heights (my mother’s hometown), but the rain and cold kind of sapped my desire. Still, I left and went out there. As I finally started to go towards the meeting place after walking for blocks in search of tea, I saw a familiar face. It was Wayne, one of the coolest guys I’ve ever known and my ex-coworker back when I was at Apple Store SoHo. He was getting out of a car, and I yelled out to him. Wayne has been heavy on my mind; he reached out to me when my mother died, expressing that I can call him back whenever I’m ready. He lost his mother years ago, and I always admired his strength to not only carry on, but to always honor her and go on to build a family of his own. I haven’t seen him in a really long time, and I’ve honestly felt guilty about not calling him back. Talking to him on that corner, apologizing and just sharing my appreciation for him really re-energized me. I felt my mother’s energy in that conversation, and the freedom I felt from no longer feeling like I came up short with him. He told me he knows how it is when you lose your mother, and to just take my time and call when I can. That meant a lot to me.

Two days before the anniversary of my mom’s passing, my sister got me and my dad into an Arbor Day tree planting in Prospect Park, where you can dedicate the two trees to your deceased loved ones. My mother LOVED Brooklyn and Prospect Park and all the surrounding areas, and made sure me and my sister basked in all the park had to offer. We all shoveled soil onto the base of the tree with other families; it was a beautiful time and the weather was perfect. My mother’s memory will live on forever, in a place that meant so much to her. I felt like we did right by our mommy, and she really appreciates the gesture. I needed to be there, because physically shoveling and walking around felt like I was “doing” something for my mom; that effort bought me even more peace. I’m better now. Thank you for everything, mommy.