Dear Unsealed,
Today as I lay across my queen size bed,
As though the universe led
Me supernaturally to this phenomenal sad,
But a joyful photo of me and my dad.
I am a little Vic.
My poppa was a big Vic.
The photo was from long ago,
In my reality of the 1980s highs & lows
Of experiences in Hollywood &
Beyond with my dad, big Vic.
Time goes by so quickly,
Like a bite of an avocado
As I swallow the last bite.
My pop, Victor was my hero.
Vic was always my rock to lean upon.
No matter what I said or did,
In those days of growing up singing my song,
Vic was always there to teach me right from wrong
& to work hard, study hard, smile,
While all the while
You ‘wanna’ cry,
Ask why,
Or just hug the world
As you travel the road I chose.
My poppa Vic
Passed away as he was sick
With leukemia.
I was there by his side
To hold his hand as he died.
I bent over to kiss his forehead,
Telling him thank you for always having my back.
I now look at the photo
Faded from decades of dark & light.
My poppa Vic
With his baby girl, Vicki
As we sat at the celebration dinner party in LA.
I had rented a dress from a costume shop in Hollywood,
Judi Garland’s once upon old black sequin dress.
I wore my late Grandma Carrie Soleta’s beads,
I had cut my hair so black and short with waves,
To help me smile & celebrate the event.
That was so special that night.
I look at the old, faded photo,
I smile as I remember my big Vic,
My hero always there to catch me when fell
Or celebrate me when I stood up,
When he was there to pull me up,
“Sister, everything’s gonna be okay. A hundred years from now you will forget about it.”
“Yeah dad, in a hundred years we will be dead. So, forget about it.”
That was my poppa Vic!
Now I remember those words of inspiration alert
From big Vic.
I loved my poppa Vic,
My hero
I still feel him around
To keep me sound
& so,
This letter is dedicated to my late poppa Vic,
So handsome, so sweet
To everyone he would meet.
I dreamed of my big Vic & my mom, Thelma,
One-night years ago
Before I moved back to LA
2016.
I was living on the south Texas beach
With the Jekyll & Hyde dude.
Poppa Vic knocked on my bungalow door.
I opened it, “Dad, Mom, hello, OMG!
My poppa said, “Come with us sister.”
I stepped out the door
To leave that bungalow door
Adobe behind to never go there, nevermore.
We drove over the mountains, the desert,
To LA.
Then as I stepped out to pray
To thank God to be back in LA
After a long trip
With my poppa my late mom & late poppa Vic.
They disappeared like a puff of smoke
As I awoke
To daybreak.
Three months later I was on the train to LA
Over the deserts & mountains night & day.
I stepped off the train,
Kissed the ground, so glad to be back in LA.
My poppa, big Vic was there in spirit for me
To bring me home, no more to roam.
“I love you my poppa Vic.”

It’s been almost a month now. In some ways it’s easier. I cry less, and the span of time between thoughts of you is ever-expanding.

It hurting less though hurts more, if that makes sense. Like it’s ok you’re gone.

It’s not.

I keep thinking about everything I could have done better. Cliche, I know.

I’m happy you stayed long enough to meet my baby girl, that there was a cross fade between your two lives because in a way it means you’ll live on forever in our family. There will always be pictures of you and her in our home. There will always be memories entrenched with your energy.

But the timing was so hard on you. So many days your being was a disturbance or a distraction to a newborn baby and a newborn mama, so I kept you in a separate room after so many years of doing everything side by side.

I kept saying, tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll spend time with you. Tomorrow I’ll take you on a walk. Tomorrow I’ll get on the floor and scratch your ears the way you like. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the vet to check out the cut on your elbow.

Fourteen years together can make one complacent. Fourteen years together made me delusional with a subconscious belief there’d be fourteen more.

Your body had other plans. Your spirit was tired. You were ready.

And when the time came I was the only terrified one, the only heartbroken one, the only hesitant one. You were, and you are, so at peace.

I can’t stop thinking about the time we had I did nothing with. The moments, each one a precious gift, I squandered. Wasted breaths not loving you the best I could.

In my dreams you emphasize your love for me, your love of our full lifetime together. You continue to offer yourself beyond death.

It’s not possible, I know… I wish for one more summer. To give you absolutely everything.

But I can’t.

Now I see the heaviness of all my relationships in the abrasive reality of temporality. I keep seeing how often I whisper tomorrow, instead of diving deep into right now.

I don’t want to come to the end – be it of my life or another’s, a move, a change of any kind – wishing I had made more meaning out of what I had been graciously given by existence itself: TIME.

I’ve found myself in these last few weeks walking back up the stairs to pet the kitty’s head as he waits at the threshold looking down at me. Staying longer for coffee with my dear friend instead of rushing to get home because I’m tired, because of the never ending list of chores. Holding tighter to my lover in the quiet of late night when we’re finally alone instead of being lost in my head or in my phone.

The magic you have is one of a kind. You continue to show me the way. To light the path of a more intentional, a more beautiful life. After all, it goes so fast. It never comes back. And we just never seem to see it coming.

You inspire presence in me, sweet Beargirl. I wish I had more of it when you were still in the physical realm, it’ll be something I forever look back on. All our beautiful time together, and all the beautiful time we could have had together.

But in this way, you’ll always be by my side. Your silly little strut, the look back with enormous perked up ears, reminding me – this is it babe, this briefest of seconds is all you got.

You’re gold.

You’re beautiful.

You’re perfect.

Your soul is entwined with mine, till the end of time.

Thank you for the moments you gave me.

Love you forever, and ever and ever.

It’s been six months since you said goodbye
It’s been six months since you died
That night when you took the pills
Because you no longer wanted to feel
Into the darkness you were swallowed whole
Trying to find peace
And quiet your soul
That night you died
The piece of me
Where depression lied
I felt my fate
And knew it was too late
For me to stay alive
I was already dead inside
They took my body away that night
And I was renewed from the ashes
Like a Phoenix in flight
Emerging from the darkness
Flying into the light
A new soul reborn and ready to fight
I shed old skin
And doubts that held me down
I’m embracing this new beginning
In which I’ve found
Reminiscences of you are what keeps me strong and alive
So I’ll only keep you as a memory in order to strive
So Rest in peace
To the being
That’s no longer inside of me
The one who threatened
the life of me
I will always love who you were in every way
Because you made me who I am today

You’ll come to me in whispers

And you’ll visit me in dreams

I’ll awaken from your kisses

Softly lit by radiant beams

In the echos of my life

I will catch your sweetest voice

I will hear our love’s pure song

And my heart will then rejoice

I will strain my tired ear

For each whisper that you gift

As I listen most intently

In our memories I will drift

And one day your gentle whispers

Will be louder and quite clear

We’ll be standing face to face

And our love’s song all will hear

Throughout my life my gram was my other mother, the only one to never judge me, love me unconditionally, believe in me, and always tried to protect me. As of January 27, 2024, she has went on before me. She is now my Angel. Growing up with her, watching her, and hearing her taught me that no matter what I see, think, feel, and hear; I am bigger and better than it. I can and I will come out on top. And so I did just that, thanks to her!

I feel more out of place now than I ever have.
You’re not here to remind me of who I am.
Suddenly it’s like I’m floating in midair.
It almost feels like an outer body experience, which I fear.
Wanting to pick up the phone and make that call.
Drop on by for a smile, hang out for a while and share some words.
Without you here it feels colder than before.
Lonelier than I’ve known.
BUT,
I won’t carry on in sadness and gloom.
I know this is just a stage.
I’ll pick myself up but only for you.
I’ll take what you gave me and shine it bright.
I’ll share all of your love.
I’ll share your life.
The memories are sewn into my soul, streaming through my veins and all of my bones.
Tears are mixed with happy and sad.
Ultimately though, I am glad.
I’m glad to have had the honor of you; your love,
your laughter,
your touch.
Sharing our worlds together and laughing so much.
You went on ahead with the others.
You wait for us to catch up but you’re in no rush.
So until then I’ll leave you with this, a simple little wish.
That as you watch over your loved ones you continue to live through us and with us.
Until we meet again
💗💗💗

I saw you pull up to my parents’ house for a wonderful surprise visit.
You told us you weren’t sure how long you’d stick around for,
But, you did say you would be back soon.

You’ll be back.
You’ll be back soon.
You always come back.

Years passed and you rolled in like it was only yesterday.
Your smile is bright, your stories are wild and we are all laughing together.
You are so much older but not all that different.
We are still exactly 10 years apart.
We are still each other’s favorite cousin.
You are still someone I look up to.
But for now, you’ve got to go again.
You didn’t know when, but you knew you would be back soon.

You’ll be back.
You’ll be back soon.
You always come back.

It’s Thanksgiving at the apartment
My smile was bright, but there were no stories.
Nobody was laughing.
I was a ghost and everyone else was a graveyard.
I left and no one even looked up at me.

I wish I didn’t.

Six years passed
and this time
you
didn’t
come
back.

I wish I knew.

I missed your funeral.
I missed your burial.
I miss you.

I finally returned to the apartment
to sprawl your flowers out over the bay.
My heart dropped at the top of the hill.
I met a lonesome swan that was kooky like you.
He made sure to make me smile bright like you.
The sky was heavenly.
The flag was at half mast.
I wonder if they knew.
I heard your flowers plop into the water and sobbed over the railing.
I almost wished I didn’t let go so soon.

Three months passed and a lot has happened.

You left and the whole world went into lockdown.
You left and society crumbled.
You left and everyone is rioting.
You left and I almost envy you for it.

You left us pictures of your bright smile to look back on.
You left us wild stories to recount.
You left us with fond memories to laugh at.

I swear I saw you drive past my complex today
You were laughing and held your cigarette outside your car window.

It was only for a split second.

But I knew it was you.

I knew you would come back.

And I know you’ll be back soon.

You always come back.

Born in the South, under that Carolina sky,
Josephine Robinson , a strong black woman with pride.
Eighth grade education, couldn’t hold her back,
Racism of the south tried to stop her, but she stayed on track.
To Philly she migrated, dreams in her eyes,
Two kids by her side, she was destined to rise.
Two Turner Street homes, bought with blood, sweat, and tears,
Through the struggles and the pain, she conquered her fears.

Two houses on Turner Street bought from her grind,
With her hard-earned dollars, she redefined.
A matriarch standing, through thick and thin,
When my dad fell short, she did her best to step in.
Showered us with care, love beyond measure,
Grandma Josephine, a timeless treasure.
Her fried chicken thighs, crisp and divine,
Sweet potato pies, yeah they taste so fine.

She showed me strength, resilience, and grace,
In her warm embrace, I found my place.
Through every hardship, she stood tall,
Josephine Robinson, my hero through it all.

Black woman from the South, legacy so deep,
Her memory in my heart, forever I’ll keep.
Fried chicken thighs, golden and crisp,
Sweet potato pies, with a loving twist.
Grandkids gathered around, stories to tell,
In her presence, all was well.
Her Southern cooking, a symbol of care,
Grandma Josephine, always there.

Fried chicken thighs, sweet potato pies,
Grandma’s love, never disguised.
Southern cooking, taste of home,
In her kitchen, love was shown.

From the South to Philly, she paved the way,
With love and strength, she did her best to save the day.
Josephine Robinson your legacy lives on,
In every fried chicken thigh, and every sweet potato pie I ate til it was gone.

This poem is dedicated to my Grandma Josephine Robinson 10-03-1922 to 1-08-2014

Written with love by your Grandson Brandon Basheer Umar Pemberton

The way you lit up whenever I was around.
The way I could trust you with my secrets and know that you would only share the things I wanted known to others.
The hours we spent together in good company playing games, streaming movies, and making plans for the future.
Sometimes I would shut you down when you were acting out of sorts, but I always knew that we could start fresh after taking some time apart, and we would both be better for it.
And while you naturally opened up to anyone who cared to get to know you,
You and I had a special bond and connection that was not easily hacked.
It’s a shame that your time has come to an end, but I will still hold on to you for the treasure that you are to me.
You were a good computer.
Rest in peace.

I yearn for the days we reincarnate as trees
A family of redwoods, sturdy and tall as can be
Storms wouldn’t dare shake us
And our roots grounded in more than just emotion
We’d be patient, we’d listen
We’d see humans making our mistakes
And glisten at the lessons

The party was lovely. Beautiful weather, waves gently rolling over the sand, sun shining. As always, we all gathered there for you, duded out in our best, even though we spent our time together; away from you. Suddenly the weather turned, the sky darkened and the ocean roared. I saw the ship, faintly, behind the curtains of fog and mist and I knew it was for you. Frantic, I told everyone you were leaving, but no one believed me. The horns thundered and it was deafening, I was sure everyone could hear them. I screamed my warning above the sounds, but no one believed me. The lighthouse, always in full vision yet forgotten after so many years, shone its dull light and I jumped up and down and pointed and shouted, but no one believed me. From nowhere, you came to shore. We all gathered round you. I saw the bags at your feet. It was clear you were leaving. I looked into countless eyes, awaiting the understanding nod that yes, they finally saw it too, but still no one believed me. I kissed you goodbye and gave my blessing for a safe journey up North, not realizing that I didn’t believe me too. The baby ran towards the water, my attention caught for a split second, but when I turned back, you were gone. Everyone told me you had left, but I didn’t believe them.
We all dressed in black. We had parties centered around a pretense of love for one another, convincing ourselves that if we held on to each other, maybe we’d find you amongst us. A little in Will, a spot in Anna, a smile in Margret, a talent in Jeremy. But you were no where to be found. I said I loved them as I loved you, but I didn’t believe me. Over time, the party lights became as dull as the lighthouse. They took on a sour scent. Then bitter. It was your light that provided the warmth and clarity, your perfume that kept the stench at bay. The parties became few and far between. Some stopped coming, some disappeared, but the worst of all had more parties, stinking of gangrene decay.
I wish I could’ve bottled that perfume, but silly me, I should’ve known it could never be caught. It was the wild aroma of yellow roses, sunshine, and a humid breeze. No chemical, no matter how strong, could recreate the natural sweetness. I’ve kept what few possessions you and the vultures left behind. They’re shut up tight in decorative boxes and drawers and when I open them, your perfume escapes and while I relish in the embrace, enraptured, I desperately slam closed the boxes and drawers as quickly as possible, so as to never lose your perfume, like I’ve lost you.
That was many years ago, now. No more ships have come in, the lighthouse still stands, the baby is now a boy, and the fog and mist have hung around since you departed. It’s difficult to see and I don’t know which way I’m going, but the boy guides me without intention. In him, I see your smile, your talent, your light, and a perfume much like your own. You told me he would, but I didn’t believe you.

This guitar you handed down,
Shapes music like a lighthouse.
Acoustic memory,
You’re tuning through the keys.
From where you are you amplify,
the song that’s calling me.
These same strings your fingers played,
Connect me to the words you say,
Because life’s foot is on my neck,
Your voice says “sing, until it’s dead.”
“The life you had was a cage”, you said.
“Sing Sweetie. Heart and mind are syncing,
This tower that you built is strong,
And this is gonna hurt,
So sing.
Sing through pain.
Because waves can’t take your breathe away.
Let the sound crash through,
Now that nothing takes from you.
Where your going you don’t need walls,
They never supported you at all.”
Still I’m sitting inland,
And I belong at sea.
“Sing Sweetie.
You shine when you have trimmed the wick,
That’s how you find your reasonance.
Your life is hidden in music.
Face it.
That’s your self healing circuit.”