My mother was born Terry Lynn Simmons. According to my stepfather, after marriage, he convinced her to change her name to Teresa Lee Price. It was one of the many ways her voice began to fade in the background. While this space is not about him, that detail helps shape the full picture of who she was and the life she lived.

 

To my mother, when I look at this photo, I see the real you, as you were born, Terry Lynn Simmons. A rare you... the way you laughed with your whole face, the ease in your posture, a joy that once radiated from your spirit. Before life grew heavy, before the weight of it all… there was this light.​​

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We didn’t have the kind of relationship I used to wish for.
Ours wasn’t filled with hugs, long talks, or the softness I craved growing up. My memories are complicated and honest.

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But what I can say with certainty is this, you mattered. Your life mattered. And the absence I felt wasn’t because I didn’t care, it was because I did. I wish we had more time, more healing, more peace together. But even in that, I’m grateful.

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I don’t share this in sadness, but in clarity. More than ever I understand that you were a woman with your own pain, your own past, your own untold stories. And while I never got to know you in the way I needed, I see you now with different eyes.

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I recognize the barriers you couldn’t break, the love you may not have known how to give, and the weight you likely carried alone.

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This isn’t about rewriting our story, it’s about releasing it.

I honor your life by telling mine. I remember you, not because it was always good, but because it was real.

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And in that, there’s peace.

​Mother, you are loved and will always be in my heart.

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With Love,

Samira