dec 11
a journal on familial bonds.
the oddities in which the preservation of familial bonds has brought is an interesting notion worth unpacking. I keep one pillow sheet on a pillow here, and one there. as the matching florals bring comfort to both homes I go to. I use the locker in the gym of my father’s favorite number, as the unification of father and daughter presents itself in strange ways. but I somehow feel closer knowing my stuff is protected by him despite the distance. 3:33 is my favorite time to present each day as my mom and I share that in common, and I’m under the belief it keeps us closer. every store I go into, I’m on the lookout for new hello kitty themed items, as my sister recently took on the fascination for the cartoon that made an impact on a portion of my childhood too. as she grows older, our age gap seems to close, as if to be an illusion, as we begin to look more alike. I love that we carry each other with us every day.

I spend the days looking for ways to feel closer to my family, even though our distance keeps me humble.

growing up, I loved sitting in the kitchen with my dad as he would cook dinner. I learned a lot during those times. funny enough, my favorite thing I learned to cook from him was his scrambled eggs in the bowl passed down from my grandma. it’s the scrambled egg bowl. one day I’ll buy a bowl just to scramble my eggs in, but for now I’ll reminisce on that bowl knowing my eggs will never scramble as well as they do inside that bowl. he also taught me the importance of the preparation the night before. for anything, but specifically, he loves to prepare his coffee the night before for an easier wake up. I think a warm cup of coffee ready to go is a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, too.

I go through days holding onto random parts of the things that remind me of family, of the love we hold. for familial love is not one easy to replicate. and I don’t bother to replicate it, I spend my time attempting its infiltration into my daily life. to bring the love with me.

I am a mosaic of the people I love. pieces of them make up me and falter a greater sense of who I am. as I am only me because those who brought me here.

Dear Unsealer’s,
# What’s your love story
part 1

Originally Recorded February 2020 By: Taylor Vance
Our love Story began over a year ago at a point in my life when I thought my ability to love someone else was gone. Being a widow with two children was what I believed the rest of my life would always be not ever knowing or sharing true love again. This love came on blind, unexpected & pure. Not out of pity & without judgement which brought light back into my life. He gave me the opportunity to see and experience things I only dreamed of, but thought I would never do. Him well he was a Gypsy roaming wild and free, me well I was the pioneer never to venture too far away from home or family. He was excited to show & share his ways & worldly experiences with me mostly, more than he even knew he reminded me to LIVE & LOVE life again. I am very thankful GOD sent me a good man with only good intentions for myself and my children. I found this quote that resonates with me how I feel our relationship came to be & is the base of which we began on January 5,2019.

“Maybe she needed HIM to show her how to LIVE and Maybe he needed HER to show him how to LOVE”

ONE YEAR DOWN, FOREVER TO GO

love Taylor 2-2020
Taylor & Shane 2019

NOT THE END, INSTEAD TO BE CONTINUED…….

I was strong… Loneliness so deep, like the sea.
I was strong—I didn’t need nobody.
I was so strong, I needed everybody.
I was strong enough to pass as Happy-Go-Lucky,
Even when the cracks showed under the weight.

But strength, they say, isn’t always a gift.
Being “The Strong Black Woman”—what a cruel myth.
A title dressed in resilience but laced with chains,
Hiding the truth of my heart’s quiet pains.

I was strong, even when they looked past me,
Strong, even when disregard was all they’d see.
Strong enough to hold the world,
Yet too strong to be held myself.

They called me strong like it was praise,
But strength became my cage in so many ways.
No room for tears, no space for need,
Just a shell of power, a soul to bleed.

But what of my vulnerability?
Why is softness seen as fragility?
I’ve learned that strength isn’t just standing tall,
It’s also knowing when to let yourself fall.

I am both—strong and tender, bold and unsure,
A mixture of fire and water, pain and cure.
I am whole, not in spite of my duality,
But because I embrace all that makes me me.

So don’t call me strong if it means I must break.
See me as human, for my own sake.
Strength isn’t a shield; it’s a choice to be free,
To honor both the strength and softness in me.

The ghost of “us” still lingers, a haunting refrain,
A melody of memories, a bittersweet pain.
I grieved for the future we’d never attain,
Two souls entwined, then severed in twain.

We’re like two planes in the sky, headed in two different directions,
A near hit or miss, a fleeting connection.
I gave it all I had before I ever decided to quit.
Deep within the depths of my heart, you’re someone I’ll always miss.

But the weight of “what ifs” began to erode,
A heavy cloak of sorrow, a lonely road.
I knew I deserved better, a love that would unfold,
A story where my spirit wouldn’t grow cold.

So I broke the chains, shattered the illusion,
Found the strength within, a silent revolution.
Each step forward, a victory, a new constitution,
Rebuilding myself, a slow, steady evolution.

The sting of regret still lingers, a phantom limb,
But I’m learning to breathe, to finally swim.
In the ocean of life, I’m no longer adrift,
I’ve found the courage to rise, to finally shift.

Truth be told, we’re better off apart,
But our connection is one that genuinely touched my heart.

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.

Walking the dogs at night,
They don’t ask for much.
My pups,
just a stroll.
They teach me so much,
to stop and pause,
to look up and sniff.

So much can be seen!

I hear the children laughing and yelling and the sound of whistles from the referees.
The sky is bright with both baseball field lights and the full moon.
The leaves already brown and orange and crunchy under my feet
An owl in the distance mixes with the aromas of rosemary by the sidewalk’s edge.

I feel a presence.

I see my grandpa in my mind’s eye, dressed in white,
wearing a hat and smoking a cigar,
strolling behind me, whistling then lowly singing a song I have never heard
but feels familiar just the same

(Even though I didn’t know him or the song in this life…)

The moon, the stars, the kids in the distance, the sound of panting and patter of paws on the concrete-
It doesn’t get better than this,
And it is just Monday.

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.

Hey you ;
Thank you ;
Thank you for being here ;
Thank you for creating Truth that keeps the noose loose as you choose to continue through the fears ;
Thank you for trying your best even when it seems like every seam that holds yourself together has been Severed and ripped to shreds ;
Thank you for trying your best even when it seems like everything you’re thinking is like a hoarders dream, thoughts of a convoluted mess ;
Thank you for trying your best even when things that are in and out of your control seem to spin out of control, and you try to hold on to the right when it seems like there’s nothing left ;
Thank you for staying alive, even though every day seems like a daily struggle just to survive ;
Thank you for choosing to resume these pages of life, even when you’re burnt up and exhausted and no longer want to write ;
Thank you for being here ;
Thank you for being you ;
Sincerely true ;
From me to you ;
Thank you ;
;

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.