So last year my mom was diagnosed with AML and immediately our lives changed instantly, we quit looking at 6 months from now and were thankful for the moment, we still planned ahead but new anything could happen, well Thanksgiving came and noticed my mom wasn’t acting like MY MOM, we had planned a Special Thanksgiving with homemade egg rolls and she was sleeping a lot, well we were praying and Trusting God and on Dec 15th we would take her to the hospital.The doctor told us her instines were twisted and asked if the cancer was being treated our hearts sank, We were planning on spending Christmas with my mom, but the 17th of December I had to sign a DNC for my mom, Everyday I spent with my mom was short.Dec 22nd she would pass away.I spend Christmas eve getting her grave site ready, Im STUNNED at what happened.We now cherish EVERY DAY and WILL MAKE HER PROUD.

Dear Mary, daughter of Joachim:

I thought it appropriate to write to you on this eve of the celebration of your son’s birth.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when we met, but it was very early in my life. As a child, I was introduced to you through my Catholic upbringing. I learned of you and revered your place in history as the mother of Jesus Christ.

Through teachings in the church, I learned that you were chosen by God to deliver a son who would eventually die for our sins. As a mother, I can’t imagine giving birth to a child that I knew was destined to die to save the world. That’s a heavy burden.

Through stories told in the Bible, I learned that not only did you and Joseph take on this challenge, but you did it with the utmost grace.

How proud you must have been as Jesus taught us to live in God’s light, to do His work and act in ways that put the rest of us to shame. Through every adversity, your son rose to the challenge, even when He was falsely accused of witchcraft.

Ironically, those who questioned His powers were the same people who brought Him to the cross.

Mary, if given the chance, you and I would have a cup of tea and talk for hours. I have so many questions, one mother to another.

In closing, I’d like to thank you for your sacrifice as Jesus’s mother. I’ll refer to one of my favorite Christmas songs: “Mary, did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters . . . And when you kiss your baby boy, you’ve kissed the face of God.”

I look around and see so much loss. Be careful in life; it comes at a cost.

There’s no avoiding death; it’s a scary fate. Live life to the fullest before it’s your day.

It’s excruciatingly painful, but it’s a part of life. Grief is an emotion that cuts deep like a knife.

Cherish every second, minute, and hour with the people you love. Always be prepared to relive memories with your loved ones up above.

There’s no right or wrong way to grieve when someone leaves our lives unexpectedly. But we can keep their memory alive by living out our lives intentionally.

Of course, they wouldn’t want us to be sad, yet they’re no longer here. It’s hard to be happy when life takes away someone we hold dear.

There’s no time like the present when tomorrow may not be promised. It’s okay to be sad and to cry. Embrace your feelings and keep it honest.

I don’t handle loss well, so I write my feelings down. It’s hard to stay strong when there’s loss all around.

Don’t take loved ones for granted; appreciate them while you can. Everything happens for a reason; it’s all part of God’s plan!

I watched you from the shadows,
a quiet, steady beat.
You moved through the world
like the ground kissed your feet.

I studied the curve of your laugh,
the shine in your eyes,
dreamt of moments we’d share,
but they were all lies.

I was invisible, a ghost in the crowd,
a whisper, a breeze, never too loud.
But inside, my heart raged,
a storm I couldn’t tame,
trapped between silence
and the sound of your name.

So one day, I stood tall,
my fear on display,
and told you the truth
in the boldest of ways.
But your smile held pity,
your answer a no—
a wound I expected,
but it still cut low.

Yet from that “no,” I found my voice,
discovered in me, I had a choice.
No longer hiding in the cracks of the wall,
I became the light that burns through it all.

Now I walk taller,
no fear in my step,
because loving myself
is the best move yet.

You didn’t choose me,
but that’s okay,
I’ve learned to love me
in a brand-new way.

I remember the smell of Charlie perfume and peppermint candy, the sound of her strong voice and the feel of her warm, calloused hands. Grandma Lee Lee, as she was fondly called, loved to cook, dance and play the piano at church. Often when GaGa had political engagements and mommy was busy living her life, I spent immeasurable time with Grandma Lee Lee. I just had my sixth birthday party and although Grandma Lee Lee wasn’t feeling well, I remember her being the fun hostess everyone adored because she always loved a good party. I remember going home and a few days later waking up to everyone crying in my house. When GaGa told me Grandma Lee Lee had died, my little mind couldn’t comprehend it. I told my grandmother that Grandma Lee Lee had just come to me that night, beautiful and not sick. She told me that she was better, that she loved me and I was to be a good girl because she’ll be watching me. How could Grandma Lee Lee come see me if she was dead? My grandmother looked at me, the tears streaming from her eyes and held me close without saying a word.
That was my first memory and experience with death and a couple of years later a childhood friend, Karla Campbell, was kidnapped and murdered. We were just eight years old and all I was thinking about was that I was never going to see her again because a bad man hurt her. My biggest heartbreak came in 2000 when we had to make the most difficult decision to take my grandmother off life support on Easter Sunday at noon. GaGa had been my world and I had been her caregiver since a senior in high school. I never fully recovered from that decision or day and over the years, I would replay and relive the moment to my mental and spiritual detriment.
Since then, death has often paralyzed me each time; with the last decade experiencing multiple losses, seemingly back to back with little time or rest to process the last transition of a loved one. For example late 2011-2013, I had lost thirteen loved ones; among them my god child, the suicide of a cousin, the murder of another cousin, my uncle who was my father figure and finally ending with the sudden death of my grief counselor herself. I had started going to therapy in 2012 to deal with my compounded grief and she was a great inspiration for my healing. Imagine someone giving you coping tools for grief processing and ultimately you have to deal with losing them as well. It was the first time I had heard about complicated and compounded grief:

“Complicated grief is like being in an ongoing, heightened state of mourning that keeps you from healing. Signs and symptoms of complicated grief may include: Intense sorrow, pain and rumination over the loss of your loved one. Focus on little else but your loved one’s death.”

“Compounded grief, also known as cumulative grief, is a pile-on effect of grief or “grief overload.” It may mean losing several loved ones in a short period of time. It may mean losing a loved one, then a relationship, then a job, then a pet, then a natural disaster hits and damages your home, etc. The losses can come from various sectors, but put together, it’s a big pile of grief and loss to deal with”

I thought I would never see a season of so much loss like 2011-2013 but unfortunately, I was wrong. And although my perception of death matured with my spirituality, my constant and prolonged grieving has often prevented me from healing as much as I could. 2017 I lost my mother to breast cancer after an estrangement. Being at her bedside, despite it all, I was allowed to care for her the last two weeks of her life and by the Lord’s grace, we found our closure before she transitioned but the mourning of our relationship and time lost continues until this day. I would experience more loss soon after, a village mother and two pets, which only compounded my grief. Then the pandemic hit and of course like many, Covid-19 took some loved ones I thought I’d never be without and I found myself drowning in depression even as I facilitated grief and bereavement support groups for Project WINGS.
Last year I lost my big brother Sean and a childhood friend back to back. The holidays are hard to endure and haven’t been the same for years but I push through for others sake and not my own. It can be daunting to have to smile when inside you are drained and emotional from grieving.
Even as I write this, I’ve experienced the loss of five loved ones since June 2023. A dear cousin that was like a brother, a best friend since seventh grade, a nephew to murder, a father figure/mentor and a young man that had become my earth son the last few years. As much as I try, the world seems so hard and feels so cold dealing with loss. However I heard a saying recently “Grief is the price you pay for loving that person” and Dr. Joseph Smedley tells us that after each loss, you have to reinvent yourself because you are not the same person who was before the loss of a loved one. Having cumulative grief means constantly reinventing myself almost to the point of not recognizing who I am sometimes. I’ve found some solace in therapy, family and friends as my life lines yet sometimes I struggle with feeling like a burden or downer to them, so I tend to isolate which isn’t good for my mental health. Though I still struggle and will continue to fight myself, I offer these tidbits for someone who is dealing with complicated or compounded grief:

Therapy
I can’t stress enough the importance of counseling to help with your mental health! You can have theology/religion and therapy too, in fact, I strongly suggest you do both to help heal your overall being. Because grief is also a mental health crisis, it is important to get the tools and resources you need to survive it.

Coping Skills
Whatever your healthy coping skill is, use it!
I know people who walk or jog, I know others who are creatives using their talents and some who volunteer for organizations. I’m grateful to be an artist that can utilize some of my gifts to help relieve stress, anxiety and depression. Laughter is also one of my coping skills I utilize to get me through hard times. Coping skills help us to raise our resilience against life stressors. Just a simple act of sitting in the sun, watching a movie, listening to music or helping someone can make you feel better. Find a way to celebrate or honor their lives in some way. Being grateful for their lives, the impact they have in yours and cherishing fond memories.

Life lines
Have a circle of family/friends that you can lean on during this time. There is power in reaching out to those who love you and empathize with you. Having a trusted circle that you can go to in times of need is essential to your wellbeing and self-care.

Griever’s Rights
You have griever’s rights, use them! I find it necessary to remind myself to be kind and gracious to myself while grieving. That everyone grieves differently and that grief is not a straight line. Look up mental and spiritual health resources that can help you during your grief process. Know that grieving is a unique journey for every individual. Know your grievers rights and honor your grief processing.

Prayer and Praise
Pray, Pray and Pray! We are social, biological, psychological and spiritual beings. The journey of healing entails addressing each aspect of our beings and I personally have found that praying daily, listening to mediation and/or praise music helps to stabilize my moods and helps to raise my vibrations against depression. It’s not easy but there are times when I have to literally stay in prayer all day to stay focused, encouraged and to keep my mood up.

Self-care
Take care of yourself!
All of the above is self-care and self-care is imperative to the grief process as well as the journey of healing. Sometimes self-care is hard to do when you can’t get out of bed, or just taking a shower seems so overwhelming. In therapy and living through cumulative grief, I’ve discovered that small steps, coping skills and grace for myself aids in my self-care.

Loves and Lights, grief is something you don’t get over but live through. For those of us who are experiencing cumulative grief, the journey can often feel endless but after every storm is a rainbow. Sometimes you have to fight extra hard to see or find it, but the rainbow is always there, a promise from The Most High that this too shall pass and that we are not alone. There is help and hope for us if we choose to seek it. As I live out my grieving process, my prayer for myself and for anyone struggling is that you have comfort, grace and strength on your healing journey. That you celebrate Life’s about moments so please don’t give up; stay encouraged and find your joy in every moment and everywhere that you can, while you can.

I love you

Why is Grief alive when the person I love is dead?

Why does Grief taunt and speak when my relationship is quiet, nothing more said?

Grief keeps coming to over power me, over take me, overcome me-

Leave me Grief!
No! You’re all I have left.

Stay I Guess

Have you ever wanted something so deeply, prayed for it for years, and finally had it within your grasp—only for it to be taken away? That kind of loss is indescribable, a pain that shakes your very soul. I’ve seen people in moments like this lose their faith, turn their backs on God, and cry out, “Why me?” But I’ve also learned that the real question is often, “Why not?” What if the denial isn’t punishment, but protection? What if it’s God’s way of preparing us for something far greater than we can see in the moment?

Sometimes, we carry unhealed wounds—trauma buried so deeply it shapes our lives without us even realizing it. Instead of confronting it, we move forward, adding layer upon layer to a foundation that isn’t stable. We pray for blessings, but how can God build something beautiful on ground that’s fractured? Before He gives us what we’re asking for, He often calls us to heal, to prepare for the weight of the blessing. That’s what I’ve come to understand through my own journey.

In 2020, my world was turned upside down. I lost my dad, a man whose presence was a constant in my life. That same year, I ended an eight-year relationship with my fiancé. At the same time, I received a promotion at work—a bittersweet high in the midst of so many lows. Life felt like a chaotic mix of gains and losses, but I buried my pain under work, pretending everything was fine. I kept smiling, kept pushing forward, even though my heart was heavy and my spirit was weary.

Then came 2021, and instead of taking the time to heal, I jumped into a new relationship. At first, it felt like the escape I needed, the fresh start that could make everything better. But I wasn’t okay—I hadn’t dealt with the grief of losing my dad or the pain of my broken engagement. I was running from myself, hoping a new love could fix what was broken inside me.

When I found out I was pregnant, it felt like a sign, like God was finally giving me the joy I had been praying for. My kids were so excited, especially my son with autism, who joyfully spoke about baby clothes and all the things we would do. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was coming together. But that joy was short-lived. The dream was shattered when I was told my baby had passed away.

The loss was devastating, and the weight of it all overwhelmed me. The day before the procedure to remove the baby, I finally broke down, letting out the tears and sorrow I had been suppressing. It was one of the hardest moments of my life, but in that pain, I began to find clarity. As much as I wanted to hold on to the hope of new life, I couldn’t ignore the reality of my situation.

The relationship I was in wasn’t right. My partner wasn’t ready to be the kind of father I needed for my child, and the foundation wasn’t stable enough to support such a blessing. It became clear that God wasn’t denying me; He was protecting me. He wasn’t going to bring new life into chaos or confusion, and as painful as it was to accept, I knew He was saving me from something I wasn’t ready for.

December 10th, a day I had always celebrated as my parents’ anniversary, became a day of deep reflection. Though it was marked by pain, I never lost my faith. Instead, I began to see the spiritual meaning in the loss. Sometimes, the blessings we pray for require preparation. They demand healing, clarity, and a solid foundation. God’s timing is perfect, even when it doesn’t align with our own. What felt like denial wasn’t punishment—it was protection, a reminder that some blessings aren’t meant to come into chaos.

This experience, as painful as it was, taught me strength and patience. It deepened my trust in God’s plan and reminded me that not all delays are denials. I’m still grieving, still healing, but I hold on to the belief that when the time is right, the blessings meant for me will come. And when they do, they’ll come on a foundation that is whole, healed, and ready to embrace them fully.

My life has been a rollercoaster of self-discovery and survival. From a young age, I never quite fit in. In school, I had friends, but I always felt like the outsider. They got the dates, the attention from boys, the spotlight. Me? I was just… there. Tall, skinny, with long hair and hand-me-down clothes, I came from a family that didn’t have much. My father was strict, even into my twenties, and our household lacked the freedom to explore or express who we were.

But the real challenge wasn’t just at home—it was the relentless bullying that shaped my self-image and, for a long time, my life. I was teased, mocked, and made to feel invisible or unworthy. And those scars followed me into adulthood. They left me questioning my value, my voice, and my right to take up space. They turned me into a people pleaser, someone willing to go above and beyond for others just to feel accepted—only to be used and discarded when my boundaries went unnoticed or ignored.

That need for acceptance shaped my choices in ways I couldn’t see at the time. I picked the wrong partners, made bad decisions, and ended up chasing validation from people who never had my best interests at heart. Even in the workplace, I sought belonging, only to be met with superficial acceptance that often turned into exploitation. The same patterns of feeling unseen and unvalued repeated themselves, leaving me struggling with depression, self-doubt, and an overwhelming sense of being misunderstood.

For years, I carried this weight, convinced it was mine to bear. I felt trapped in a cycle of trying to prove myself to people who had already made up their minds about me. But then, somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Now, in my forties, I’ve reached a turning point. I’ve had enough. I’ve realized that the reason I never fit in, the reason I was bullied and mistreated, wasn’t because I lacked something—it was because of my light, my aura, the favor God placed on my life. People weren’t pushing me down because I was weak; they were trying to dim the brightness they saw in me.

I came across a quote one day that struck me to my core: ‘Thieves don’t take from houses or stores that have no value.’ That’s when it clicked—I had value all along. That’s why I was targeted. That’s why I felt the weight of other people’s insecurities projected onto me.

Now, I understand that no amount of changing myself will ever make someone like me if they’re determined not to. And that’s okay. Their opinions don’t define me, and their insecurities aren’t mine to carry.

I’ve stopped shrinking myself for others. I’ve stopped trying to be the loudest voice in the room or bending myself into someone I’m not just to avoid rejection. I’ve embraced who I am—flaws, light, and all.

The journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it. I’ve learned to set boundaries, to value my own voice, and to love myself without needing outside validation. I’ve discovered the freedom that comes from knowing I am enough, just as I am.

For anyone reading this, who feels unseen, unworthy, or caught in the trap of trying to please everyone else—know this: You don’t need to change to fit someone else’s mold. You are valuable, and your light is worth protecting. The people who matter will see it, and those who don’t? They were never meant to stay in your story anyway.

Dear Kamala Harris:
I’ll begin by saying that this is not a letter about politics, we’ve all seen enough of that this year. This is more a letter of empowerment and hopes and dreams.
I met you, like most of the rest of the world, in 2021 when you were sworn in as the first black American South Asian female Vice President. You are seated as the highest ranking female official in U.S. history. That’s nothing to sneeze at.
When I sit and resonate about the steps it took you to get where you are, it blows my mind. Not only did you overcome being a female in a world dominated by men, but you rose to every challenge with grace, dignity and beauty. You never said it couldn’t be done, and you kept pushing.
This letter is brief. It’s just my way of showing gratitude to a woman who defied the odds, took the hits when they came and kept going. I admire your tenacity and grit, along with your grace and beauty. You’re the “complete package.”
Thank you, Kamila, for being an inspiration for those of us who may never get the highest-ranking position. We will live vicariously through you.
God speed.

Rest in Peace Pipita

Like a precious bottle of Malbec~ from the vineyards of Argentina Vintage 1928.
Her hair is stunning red, roots deep brown with traces of white.
The lines on her face emphasized the years of laughter and tears. So many stories of the old Argentine neighborhood she speaks about~ I see these stories in her lines.
Her expressions are truth.

Her hands remind me of an atlas map
Tracing veins like blue rivers with finely detailed “lunars” (known in English as beauty marks) properly positioned.
The jewelry she is adorned in brightly shines
Even after so many years without polish
Her gentle smile reminds me of her youth and vibrancy

“I am not afraid” she recited to me once “When God calls for me, I will answer”

Her spirit makes life worth living.

Looking forward to old age.
With my heart and soul, I am a reflection of her.

She is my GRAND-Mother.

Bendicion~ 🙏

never take love lightly

remember that
the world you know today
could, and will shift in an instant

be courageous enough
to love so deeply
that you’ll go the extra mile
to create beautiful memories
with the people you cherish
and involve all of your senses
in being present with them

tell them that you love them
but don’t stop there
learn what to do for the ones
who’s lives matter most to you
seek what makes them feel loved
listen to what touches their hearts
and see them shine brighter
as you learn to speak
their language

start with giving yourself
all of that care
because if anyone deserves it
so do you
then spread that love around you

Dear Tracy Chapman:

You and I became friends early on in your career. Your unique voice and storytelling style drew me in. “Give Me One Reason” and “Fast Car” were on repeat on whatever device I was listening to at the time.

When I heard “Fast Car” for the first time I was hooked. Those lyrics were so down to earth and touched me in a way that made me believe I could do anything, and that there was no where to go but up.

Even over thirty-five years later, when I hear that song, I crank the volume up (I think I’ve blown a speaker or two listening to that song), and sing at the top of my voice. Your and my voice compliment each other. But certainly not in the same fashion as you and Luke Combs.

Tracy, when I heard you and Luke sing together at the Grammy’s it was simply magic. Watching Taylor Swift and Jelly Roll, singing along, knowing every word, was a tribute to how your lyrics and voice can transform even the biggest stars into your biggest fans. I’m a huge Luke Combs fan so the fact that you and he collaborated on that song was music to my ears.

One of the things I admire about you is that fame never went to your head. You have, and still do, maintain a private life outside your career. That’s hard to do in this day of social media, and everyone wants to know everything about everyone. You’re an anomaly. That’s very cool.

I like seeing you pop up occasionally. It reminds me of my younger years. Your songs touched my soul in a deep way, leaving me feeling hopeful about life’s possibilities.

For now, I’ll say see you later. Hopefully we’ll bump into each other again soon. In the meantime, I’ll be working in the convenience store, stop in some time. It’s just ‘cross the border and into the city.

The storm had finally arrived after brewing in a silent sea of delusion for far too long. The wind of truth blew fiercely against us all and the rain that fell endlessly were indeed our tears. The clouds drifted across an amber sky of clustered thoughts that hid the sunlight that day.
Yet still I held her to me.
I spoke of angels and good Soul food, whispered love and affirmations in her ear, and kissed her lips. Memories like morning dew covered and saturated my heart.
Yet still I held her to me.
Not knowing that she felt me or even knew who I was any longer because the time was at hand. Her breathing was shallow and yet the life she had lived spoke volumes throughout her transitioning. There was no more time for abandonment issues or thoughts of past transgressions; no space for generational strongholds to reinforce trauma bonding. For soon she would be gone, embraced by the light and Angels she adored. “Thank you” she had told me a mere few days ago as I cared for her, cleaning her and playing her favorite music. “I love you” she had said words that I thought I would never hear her say again after our estrangement.
Yet still I held her to me.
The embrace gave us both the closure that we needed and sought from each other. This day the hospice nurse comes to pull us out of the dark room “Give her space to transition” she said, “often loved ones won’t transition when being watched.” At the time, and in my grief, I thought that was odd of her to say. However when we went back into the room, I touched my mommy’s cooling skin and her stillness almost frightens me, yet it was then that I knew she was gone.
Yet still I held her to me.
Emotions too deep to express escaped us as we gathered around the shell that once housed her spirit. She had joined the ancestors that now danced in the wind beyond this realm. And as the years and time attempt to comfort us all in her absence, as she comes to visit us in dreams to hold dear with our memories, when moments too big for explanation are captured – my thoughts are of our last hug, when still I held her to me.