I hated my dad’s classes. He would take out his “Black Tapes”, his Black Law books, and his printed-out thick packets of information from whatever minister or professor he liked then and turn on his computer. It was only occasionally, but the topics of our history always left me feeling uneasy. As I’ve grown, I realized it wasn’t his fault the topics were oppressive to deal with, but I am fortunate he tried to prepare me for the outside world I was entering.

He is good at that.

I was homeschooled and in one of our many classes, I remember he made my brother and I draw a circle on the page in front of us and write these words.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I admired his way of storing and sharing information. His eyes lit up when he had the chance to but other times, he just kept his head in a book or focused on the new installment of monitors on his desk; only to interact again when his friends were around. The people who seemed to matter most.

What he does to me, I do to him. Even though in the deepest parts of our hearts all we want to do is hug each other. We choose to dance around it. We hurt each other, but we do it with love. I know it makes no sense, yet it’s true. I say nothing to protect us and he tells me nothing to keep my image of him from being damaged forever.

Everything he taught me I absorbed. I stood on a podium and to 300 people. I told them that quote he told me. I made them make a circle with their hands and recite these words, again.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I saw him watch me and I could feel how proud he was without having to look. There are moments when I love him with my whole heart and there are moments when I can’t because it hurts. But I always listen to him, just like I know he listens to me.

I love you in the way rain always escapes the forecast. It surprises me how much I always forget my umbrella. I love you and it’s hard because it’s hard to love myself sometimes.

We talk and clash because we both want to be right and since he can’t respond I will part with a piece of his song:

A baby boy, amazing grace. The 20th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the eldest of three.

This sounds like me:

A baby girl, amazing grace. The 25th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the youngest of three.

And this part sounds like us:

Plans were made to visit Grandma and them. But underneath pops’ wings is where you’ll find me. Right before bed was the best of times. I swear moms can read a book and make it come to life. But maybe life pressure got to Mom and Dad. Made them change directions from the ones they had. Buckets of tears running down my face as I watch in pain my hero’s separating.

But with me and you, there are no separations.

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

As a writer, I often find myself discovering scraps of writing I have jotted down somewhere, or suddenly, a line will appear in my head that doesn’t fit anywhere or doesn’t feel good enough. Sometimes, I foolishly let it fly away because it wasn’t what I was looking for at that moment. I have pondered how we do this with so many things. We set expectations and order and refuse anything that breaks the pattern, even if the thing we are shooing away isn’t harmful but is healing. We become so strict within ourselves that we become the cause of our discomfort. We search for relief in one way and refuse to accept that anything other than that specific thing will help. There is a calming effect that comes with the familiar, but only because one thing helps us, it doesn’t mean something else won’t. Here is a little silly analogy. Only because you love fries doesn’t mean you can’t like mash. It doesn’t mean mash isn’t satisfying, even if fries are your favorite. The same goes for everything in life. Are you feeling sad? Then you probably know something that can help, but if you are being entirely honest, can you say you are open-minded and open-hearted to other options? We tend to dismiss things before attempting them and convince ourselves that something else won’t work until it stands no chance. I was against exercising for so long. Told myself that I hated it and did so with such intensity I couldn’t let myself feel how I genuinely felt. There was no benefit because I refused there to be one. I was determined for it to fail, so it failed; however, when I let go, gave it a chance, and approached it with openness, I learned it does a lot for my mental health. This is one example of many. It is strange how this links with my writing and how I have started writing down the notes I would abandon before, and the results have been incredible. Instead of telling myself they are awful and brushing them out the door, I let them stay a while. I give them room in my notepad and let them ruminate.
In summary, I am saying we are terrible at giving things chances, and we should open ourselves to everything. It is okay if you give something a genuine attempt and it doesn’t work out for you, but please try it. Download the running app, try those HIIT workouts, make that recipe you’ve been unsure about, and write the poetry you are sure will suck. In celebration of this, here is an ending of a poem my brain created that doesn’t have a body yet. Hopefully, one day, it will.
“Please call back later
I’m trying to sleep off the silence
And if you don’t understand
what I’m saying
Congratulations
You’re cured.”
(If you like this letter, I write these weekly on my website. I will post more here also, so make sure we’re friends.)

Dear Movie Fanatics,

Where do I start on my mood swing journey?

Well, you all should know a little about my personality. To begin, I am a partial introvert with an appreciation for life. Empathetic, goofy, and humble all rolled into a nerdy late 30-year-old. I go through the swing of life with a healthy mix of career and personal goals. My love life is healthy, and my fiancée is awesome. He is my balance, happiness, and 1/4 of my heart next to my dad, mom, and dog.
Just to give a little background now let’s go on the rollercoaster- fasten your seatbelts, everybody.
Like most people, I go through different moods depending on my situation in life. I have 5 that drive the genre of shows I am going to watch for the day, week, or month.
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MOOD 1 (Psychological Thriller Genre)
Typically, when I start watching films like this it indicates that I have been around complex individuals—usually my friends, fiancée, or coworkers. To add on, I have watched something insightful/educational. My handy dandy TV providers HULU, Netflix, Tubi, etc… are always on the ball with recommendations for what I usually watch but sometimes I like to switch it up on them.
Recently, I came across a movie called “The Loft” which has a pretty badass cast. The plot centers around five married men who use a loft to have affairs however one woman ends up dead and they must figure out who killed her. Sounds predictable to most moviegoers but the writers threw in two great plot twists. Logan’s character, the main one who ended up buying the loft, ends up essentially screwing all his friends over by having affairs with Chris’s wife, sleeping with Ben’s sister (who was a virgin), and Matt’s affair partner. All the friends end up framing him for the murder of the girl, but it ends up being the awkward friend of the group who gave the girls sleeping pills and Logan’s half-brother who kills her.
A lot went into the plot, but I was very impressed with the director’s ability to keep the story on track. I love it when I have to double back on a film or re-watch it to understand the plot.
After awhile, my brain does need a break from all the movie Jedi mind tricks and that’s when I transition to the more non fiction based genres.
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MOOD 2 (Documentary Genre)
After I have gotten my dose of fiction for a week straight, I start to crave semi-predictable “historically accurate” content. I tend to get into this mood whenever I discover something new about myself or the people around me. Research begins and I look up specific artists of different genres to get their backstory. For example, sometime last year I happened to be listening to “Time Machine”, by Willow Smith, and in the lyrics, she sings, ” Baby, if I had a time machine, I’d go back to 1983. Maybe I would chill with Basquiat, I’d be out there playing make-believe.” The first question that sprung to mind was, “Who tf was Basquiat? Some French guy?”. Without hesitation, I immediately did a Roku TV search and happened to find a documentary on Hulu called, “Boom For Real: The Late Teenage Years of Jean-Michael Basquiat”.
“OMG, this is the SAMO guy!”- I screamed aloud.
Of course, my random outburst scared my dog and fiancée, but it was only because I felt like I had been sleeping under a rock. After watching how prolific this melanated Brooklyn-born artist was during the 80’s, I ended up purchasing a huge Basquiat-inspired “docu-art-book” (roughly 1,000 pages long) and got through 25% of the book as I am writing this article today.
After viewing 1-10 artists’ life stories, I started to wonder if these celebrities infamous or not, were the inspiration for different horror films. I then delve into my Horror Film binge.
———————————————————————————————————
MOOD 3: (Horror Genre)
Recently, I have been curious about the human experience regarding coincidental or inexplicable events happening in the past or present. I researched the story of Ed & Lorraine Warren. While most people thought they were “Kooks”, I found the integration of their career in “The Conjuring Universe” to be quite insightful. Curiosity at this point got the better of me and I began my binge of the whole series. From “Annabelle” to “The Nun”, each movie kept my attention for following the storyline. Jump scares used in moderation make for a great horror film in my opinion.
Afterward, I go to the old-school films that set the bar for the horror franchise today. Films such as “Child’s Play”, “The Exorcist”, “The Shining”, “Alien” etc… I am a firm believer in giving homage to the originals. Eventually, after my subconscious tricks me into believing I am being chased by an evil puppeteer, I begin my transition into a animated viewing experience.
————————————————————————————————————-
MOOD 4: (MANGA/ANIME/CARTOON GENRE)
I usually get into my animation craze when I need a dose of comedic relief from any horror or non-fiction binge I finish. Anime, Manga, and cartoons hold a special place in my heart and brain. Maybe the fact that someone’s inner child brought their imagination to life is what draws me in so heavily. One of my favorite anime series is Cowboy Bebop. Alongside this masterpiece, I also love “Samurai Champloo”, “Trigun”, “Attack on Titan”, and “The Boondocks”, just to name a few.
Afterwards, I go down memory lane for my dose of nostalgia and start watching projects from Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, and Cartoon Network. “Samurai Jack”, “Hey Arnold”, “Code Name Kids Next Door”, “The Proud Family”, etc… bring me down memory lane and my loved ones talk about which episodes resounded with us the most.
Recently, I made two cartoon theories on the TikTok app. Both theories focus on the possibility of cartoon characters being reincarnated on other cartoon shows. For example, I made a theory video about Susie Carmichael, from “The Rugrats” being reincarnated as Ms. Zorski the drama/English and music teacher due to their hobbies or life events in each show. As a result, I have come up with 5 video theories that are in progress as I write this letter. I love the fact these animations can get your imagination running wild. After a while, I need to come back to “reality” and I end my monthly genre binge with a more adrenaline-based viewing.
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Mood 5 : (Action Packed Genre)
Finally, I end my monthly binge with some blood-rushing special effects and ass-kicking films/tv shows. I usually get into this mood after watching manga turned into anime shows where the fight scenes get my blood pumping. My favorite action film is a mix of horror/action, and it is “Blade”. I know that is technically “cheating” but his killing vampires and the fight scenes using Wesley Snipes are downright awesome. I always get more inspired to learn self-defense in my spare time as a result of watching an action-packed movie. I’d also venture to say that the actors/actresses also inspire me to get to my ideal body. Special thanks to Halle Berry in “Catwoman” for her perfect curves in tight leather. Standing ovation for Salma Hayek in “Dusk till Dawn” for her two-piece bikini dancer body. Honorable mention shout out to Angelina Jolie for making it cool for girls to look sexy in hunting gear with gun holsters.
After I tire myself out mentally and physically, I give the action genre a break and restart the binge process all over again.
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In conclusion, my taste in movies has changed over the years but my personality has played a role in the films/tv shows I have had the pleasure/displeasure of viewing. I’ve concluded that my rollercoaster always encompasses these 5 main genres. However, they do not always follow the order of the genres listed in this piece. Sometimes, I can have one mood for two to three weeks at a time and I could end up watching one genre for 3 weeks and switch it up at the last minute. (Especially if I am feeling impulsive).
So, I challenge all my TV/FILM fanatics to look into their favorite genres and reflect on their process for picking what they want to watch for the day or month.
Ready, Set, GO!

I pray God send you back to me
I loved you before I knew you
I still love you
Stink-stink
My boo boo
I will always love you
You would have been 7 years old
Some friends tell me Happy mothers day
I smile to cover up the pain that’s inside of me
It’s hard for me to open up to explain to others what happened
I wish I knew what you would have looked like
Still wonder if you were going to be a baby boy “Legend”
Or a “Diamond” princess
I wish I knew your favorite toy
Your favorite cartoon
favorite food
favorite fruit
favorite veggie
favorite ice cream
favorite hobby
favorite color
favorite book
I know uncle Jimmy would have been your favorite uncle
Sherice & Klanice your favorite twin aunties
All I wanted was the best for you
Lead you in the right direction
I wanted you to have a father
That knew the definition of being a father
And act on it
I was so happy when I confirmed I was due 3/30/2017
But I was scared too
So I sat down and thought everything through
I rather have a child by a real man with father experience
Even with no father experience but is ready and willing to sacrifice
And do everything he can to make sure his child is well taken care of
And I was guaranteed to have a real man that had my back one hundred percent
Then I would have never had any doubts
I still look at my ultrasound picture
My body freezes up looking at my seed I was carrying
Small thing you
Sometimes as I sit and write
But yet my kid not hugging or kissing me
Or saying, “mommy I love you”
I feel so empty inside
The sorrow is so heavy
So deep
I pray God
Bring me back my princess or prince
Beautiful
Handsome
Healthy and all.

My little angel 😇 💛

In the realm of whispers, where simple truths twist and turn
Resides the tale of crayons, damaged and yearned.
“They still bring color ” they say, with a glance
Those who have tried know its a flawed dance.

For crayons though vibrant and bold
Struggle, in hands that fail to hold.
The canvas awaits, vast and forgiving
Fragmented pieces make coloring less than living.

Coloring, not painting; the distinction is clear
One wields crayons while the other brushes near.
Yet the challenge endures with these parts
Smooth strokes of joy elude us like lost arts.

Lines appear jagged and hesitant, on our quest
With each tiny fragment causing hues to fade best.
The persists “They still bring color indeed ”
Oh how we long for crayons to succeed.

For isn’t true bliss found in slow glides?
In crayons that smoothly coincide?
Yet from brokenness we learn resilience imbued
Colors emerge despite abuse endured.Well you know when it comes to coloring with crayons it’s not as easy, as using the ones. It’s like a story of never giving up and facing our fears. Actually it could even be seen as a metaphor for more than just coloring.

In both life and coloring those who are broken may still manage to leave their impactful marks.. Lets not pretend that it’s just as simple or fair for everyone. We all have our own challenges and obstacles to overcome, both in our lives and, in our endeavors.

A NOTE FROM GRANDMA SOLETA
TO LUJUANA MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas, moms, and their granddaughters, and women everywhere. We are beautiful. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Dear Lujuana,
We are not promised roses without thorns nor rainbows without rainstorms.
I miss you so much. I am in the light now but was granted temporary leave to write you this letter. You are an incredibly talented and beautiful woman. You lost your creativity for a moment in time, but you will soon receive all the talent and creativity back that a few people who wished you back luck had put a spell on you wishing you homeless, and in dire poverty so they could convince everything and everyone that you are a bad hombre. They lied about you to your friends and acquaintances. The ex-lover wanted to destroy you as a human being out of revenge and hate. In his opinion if you did not want him then you were on drugs and seriously dumb to not have stayed with his lying narcissistic personality. The rejected lover wanted to hurt you and throw you into the dark night of the soul forever, but you, my beautiful granddaughter, did not succumb to their threats of hate and evil intentions to destroy you as a human being. Your ex-lover vowed to destroy you so you would never find love again. He and his cronies laughed at you throwing stones through words and gossip to anyone they encountered to hurt you so deeply hoping you would die or live in darkness, but you, Lujuana, are a child of the Universe. You are surrounded by light and angels.
However, my sweet Lujuana I was allowed to send you guides to watch over you and protect you from his evil intentions to destroy you as a human being.
I want to let you know I love you so much. I know you have had too many broken relationships by wrongdoing men. Even though you are old now, age 74, it is not too late to have a special relationship with an artistic, creative man. I know you say it must be a miracle music man to stroke your breasts and kiss your lips. So, my dear Lujuana you will meet your mystery man like a bump in the night.
I have permission to continue to watch over you by hiring your spirit guides to always be around you to keep you safe.
I am watching you write, create art, and grow into your peace and light and love position as a human being. There are many stories you can write to help others with your stories of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and photography. Even your little stick figure drawings and your flower drawings are a part of your many gifts given from the Universe.
I wanted to stop by to deliver this message of love, peace, and light. I wish we could text each other as you do your friends in 2024. Despite this I will always be by your side to guide you. Your pop says hi and to let you know that no matter how old you get you are still his baby girl. Your mom, my daughter, has gone into the light and moved on as a reincarnated soul to learn lessons. She loved you very much but died young at age 65 and must reincarnate with her soul into another human body.
I love you my dear Lujuana, and you are protected from all evil intentions of an ex-partner that wished you harm. I know you know that the ex-partner truly kept all your photos to create a dark aura around your life not wanting you to succeed in your career. They no longer have power over your life.
May God, the Universe guide you to be the strong warrior you are to fight for equality for all, LBGTQ rights, women’s rights, gun control, peace, love, light, and understanding.
Be thankful, pray, create roses with and without thorns.
Love,

Grandma Soleta
January 30, 2024
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas and their granddaughters. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Pure determination and new promises packed along with
her black t-shirt that boldly said, “Laugh More, Bitch Less.”
She was grit, she was fierce.
She wasn’t afraid to travel in an RV with her new boyfriend,
landing in Montana mountains as a young black beautiful woman -hiking on flat trails where chokecherries partied near creeks , dealing with strong winds that chapped her cheeks, and witnessing how the snow packed and spread over the land, emphasizing the mountain tops.
She was cascading to her new dreams, her first brave trip out of the family nest.
she shimmered, she shined.
if you were lucky enough to see her smile – unforgettable like Natalee and Nat King Cole singing.
that is why WHEN she went missing –
no cellphone life, no social media snapchats, we knew something was wrong .
So, us, her siblings/besties put on the song Fugees –“ Gonna Find You”
We went.

Missing women.
Missing men.
Missing kids.
MISSING YOU.
WE FOUND YOU.
MURDERED.

Pure determination, pure promises.
Shimmer and Shine.

I don’t mean to sound conceited
But now I’m focused on respecting me
I’ve lived my life trying to people please,
Finally done with it, I broke free
I need to respect me
By setting boundaries
Boundaries stronger than Titanium
I need to practice saying no
Saying no to compromise
And stand firm in my beliefs, feelings and healing
I need to practice discernment
Keeping my vulnerabilities away from those
Those who only know how to hurt me
I need to practice patience
That word used to scare me
I used to be so hard on myself for not
Not progressing as fast as others
I need to stop comparing myself
I have my own pace and they have theirs
I need to practice confidence
I need to walk in boldness and grace
Like a Lioness with pride in her prowess
Stomping on the skulls of what used to haunt me
Terrorizing my sleep, making me drowsy
So I can’t live to my full potential with this chronic fatigue
Afraid to sleep because the girl I saw
Seemed to be impossible to be,
So I shut her out to have depression keep me company
I thank my Father for pushing me and encouraged to fight
So i take my sword paired with my shield
Decimating the lies that the demons wield
Their voices no longer linger in my brain
All because I fought without restrain
I wont tolerate what I don’t deserve.
I need to take care of me
So I have the capability to be a blessing to others
I need to put my healing first,
So I don’t bleed on the ones who didn’t cut me.
I need to trust myself,
So I can discern who I can or cannot trust.
I need to respect myself,
So I can respect those I love that surround me.
So that way I’m not plagued by hypocrisy.

My dear,
My beautiful one.
Oh, how I wish to feel your touch again.
To hear your sigh as you pass through the door.
To look, just once more, into your crystal eyes.
Oh, how I wish that I didn’t have to wish.

On various classic episodes of The Simpsons, Homer’s adventure of the week will sometimes become his lifelong dream, only for Marge to tell him that his lifelong dream was something different entirely and say that he’s already done it.

Example: In Colonel Homer (1992), Homer becomes the manager of a country/western starlet named Lurleen Lumpkin (voiced by guest actor Beverly D’Angelo) and proclaims that it’s been his lifelong dream. Marge’s retort: “Your boyhood dream was to eat the world’s biggest hoagie, and you did it at the county fair last year. Remember?”
Anyway, I bring this up because yesterday, I had my annual meeting with my home health aid and her supervisor, during which time the topic of lifelong dreams came up. I mentioned that my lifelong dream has been to attend an event at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena.

My home health aid wondered if there were any events held at that venue aside from the Rose Bowl Game on New Year’s Day, to which I mentioned that the stadium is also UCLA’s home stadium for football and that they have flea markets in the stadium parking lots every so often (according to Google, the next Rose Bowl Flea Market is scheduled to take place in March.)

Now, make no mistake: Although I want to attend an event at the Rose Bowl, by no means am I interested in attending a flea market. I want to see a game there. Every time I see a telecast of a sporting event from that stadium, it takes me back to the times I was a bright-eyed little boy watching the Rose Bowl Game on ABC with Keith Jackson on the call.

It’s my hope that one day, this lifelong dream turns into reality.

December 2, 2012. I remember this day all too well, and December 3, 2012, which is strange because I don’t remember most of my life. These two days however, are clear, vivid, like watching a movie in IMAX. A movie that haunts me to this very day.

Let’s start with December 2. Abby and I were at Granny’s. It was a Sunday afternoon, the phone rang. It was you. Mama was just arriving at Granny’s to pick us up and take us back home with her. I remember Granny asking if I wanted to talk to you, I did not. I was handed the phone, but I had nothing to say to you. I was hurt, angry, and sad. I told you I was mad at you. Mad because you left once again to go raise a child who wasn’t even your own. You left me. You left us. You said you’d be coming home for Christmas, I was happy about that, excited even. I have always been a Daddy’s girl, all I wanted was my Daddy home. Since I didn’t want to talk to you, you asked to talk to Mama. I walked the phone out to her and let y’all talk. I remember Mama smiling and laughing while speaking with you. I later found out you had asked her to marry you again. She loved you, and truthfully now looking back, she would have married you again in a heartbeat. After y’all got off the phone, Abby and I loaded up in the car with Mama and headed home. The entire ride home I was still mad, but also very excited because in a few short weeks I’d get to see you again. So I thought anyway.

December 3, 2012. Monday morning, I was awoken with my phone being taken away. I had no idea what I had done wrong for my phone to be taken, I was very confused. Mama looked like she had been crying all night. Her eyes were swollen and red. She couldn’t tell me why she took my phone from me, so being the teenager that I was, of course I was irritated. I asked her what was wrong, she said she had a toothache all night and didn’t get any sleep. I got ready for school like it was a normal day. I remember I was wearing hot pink pants, a black shirt, and black boots. We left home, the same time as usual, like we were headed to school. I would have never guessed the horrors that awaited us. We stopped at Nana’s, this was unusual, especially since we were going to be late for school at this point. I remember being so agitated because not only do I not have my phone, now I’m going to be late for school. After Nana’s, we stopped at Granny’s. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Aunt Sam’s car was in the driveway, she lived in Kentucky at this time so why was she there? Granny was sitting on the porch in her pajamas, housecoat, and slippers. We got out of the car, and Granny’s face looked just like Mama’s. Eyes red and swollen like she’d been crying all night. Now I am aware this is not another toothache. It was never a toothache.

Granny tells us to go in and sit on her bed. Abby and I do as were told, we sit on the end of her bed. Granny then proceeds to kneel down in front of us, touching the both of us with her hands, and says, “Your Daddy was in an accident, and he didn’t make it.” I finally understand why my phone was taken, why everyone’s eyes were red and swollen, why everything that morning was a bit off. My world just went black. My heart shattered. Everything inside me died that day. That is the first time I ever had thoughts of suicide. Fourteen years old, and my Daddy had died. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye. He died thinking that I hated him. I did not get to tell him I loved him, I missed him, I just wanted him to come home. I refused to speak to him when I had the chance just hours before he departed from this world. He died not knowing how much he meant to me. After we were told of the tragedy that occurred, we had to go home and pack our bags. We were going to Illinois. The bags were packed and we headed back to Granny’s, but now Papa was home too. A sound that I will never forget, is the sound of a grown man I have never seen shed one single tear, screaming, sobbing, and wailing. The sound of him mourning his son was loud enough to hear from outside of the house. To this day I can still hear his cries.

The week following your death is a blur. I remember key moments. I remember Aunt Sam nearly killing us trying to drive to the court house. You were actually going to court to see if the child you left Tennessee for was yours. I remember staying at Silly Willy’s and everyone went to view your body, but we were not allowed to go. I remember them talking about your body being “mangled”. I remember sitting at Silly Willy’s kitchen table trying to help pick songs to play at your funeral. I remember going to pick out your casket. I remember picking out your favorite cologne to spray on you. I remember when we had your visitation in Illinois and we were the first to view you. I remember not being able to walk down the aisle, nearly falling to my knees, sobbing my eyes out. That could not be MY Daddy laying in this casket. No. Not mine. But it was. Thankfully, Aunt Sam was there to pick me up and help me walk. I remember finally leaving, and Mama was the last person to say goodbye to you. We all gave her privacy. I remember going out to eat with everyone afterward and we all took a picture with the signature Billy Gray middle finger.

We brought you back home to Tennessee, in the bed of Papa’s truck. I remember riding behind it and still not believing that you were in that casket, you were really gone. I remember burying you, six feet in the ground. You were home for Christmas that year, just not the way I had expected. I remember everything, and sometimes, I wish I didn’t.

Since you’ve been gone, it does feel like the world has stopped spinning. I died that day and I don’t think I have ever come back to life yet. In fact, everyone died. A piece of every single one of us died on December 2, 2012. Some have handled your death better than others, but nonetheless, not one of us is okay. You do not expect to bury your father as a teenager. A parent does not expect to bury their child. Siblings do not expect to bury their sibling at such a young age. Especially, when you’re completely blindsided by it.

I always sit and wonder about the “what if’s”. What if you were still alive? Would things be as bad as they are? Would I be the way that I am? Would our family be as dysfunctional as it is now? The “what if’s” and “why’s” will eat you alive if you’re not careful. I have had my fair share of being eaten alive by them. I have had to accept that I cannot change what has happened, I cannot go back in time. I just have to believe you’re still here with me, believe that you know I love you and I always have, believe that you are in a better place.

You turned the last page of your book here on earth. I will cherish that book forever, hold it tightly in my soul. This December will mark 11 years, and I miss you more than I could ever put into words. I am still my Daddy’s little girl. I always will be. You were the first man I loved, and the first to break my heart. Unfortunately, grief never goes away, time does not fade the emotions and feelings. However, it is how you deal with the grief that is the key. Truth be told, I have not handled it very well. I have cursed God’s name, lost faith in everything, spiraled into destructive habits. Lots of times just HOPING it would in some sense bring me closer to you. I am now hoping one day my world will begin to spin again, maybe life will form in the parts of me that died. I will keep trying down here on earth, remember your legacy, for I am just as hard headed and stubborn as you. In the meantime, it is what it is. I will take it day by day until we meet again. When that day comes, be prepared for a fight because you left me down here without you, tears, laughter, and most of all an abundance of love. I will never let you go.

Your little girl,

Dear Unsealers,

I wrote this poem as an homage to our ancestors, when spirituality came before organized religion, when we viewed the world with wonder, and when we longed for understanding of life and death:

Primitivo

I worship the Sun

And his daughter, the Moon

I pray to the sky; morn, evening, and noon

The stars I will use as my guide and my light

To honor my ancestors throughout the night

And I pray to the gods of the wind and the rain

For peace and strength and no more of the pain

For my mother, the Earth, and my father, the Sea

Gave life and birth for me to be

The son of comets and shooting stars

My brothers Venus, Earth, and Mars

Watch over me as I wake and rest

And live my life as I do best

For when my body returns to clay

The stars will cradle me, and there I’ll stay

Have you ever had the pleasure of falling in love with someone you’ve never met?

It’s almost as if you have an immediate connection,
Your souls are fused together.
The pull of uncertain, certainty.
You feel everything all at once.
Your soul is content and full.
You’ve become a glutton for the love
It feels so good!
Theres butterflies signifying this spectacular moment in the timeline.

Have you ever had the pleasure of a heartbreak over someone you’ve never met?

They say the worst withdrawal is of a person.
I must say, “I agree.”
It’s almost as if you have lost a real piece of your soul
You have no autonomy over your
heart.
You crave, cry, and hate all within a
minute.
You mourn someone you’ve never even
met.

Have you ever had the pleasure of healing after a heartbreak over someone you’ve you’ve never met?

It’s almost as if you are whole again.
You carefully put each piece of your
shattered heart together
Hand gluing, welding, stitching,
and crafting it into your newest
artistry.
Looking at your newest master piece
You’re feel of all of the happy, joyful
memories you chose to keep
You’re reminded of the pain and
mourning that led to
You, whole,new & ready to love.

In the cosmic dance of chance and fate,
A story unfolds, a love so great.
A Spectrum of colors, a call in the night,
Where fate intervened, two worlds took flight.

In the realm of pixels and data streams,
A Spectrum call center, where reality gleams.
As a troubleshooter, I entered the scene,
Little did I know, fate was foreseen.

In the sunshine state, where palm trees sway,
Florida’s warmth met Ohio’s gray.
A sweet voice on my line,
A connection so divine.

Fate had more in its grand design.
Little did I know, she’d soon be mine,
She insisted on more, a number to exchange,
Feeding into destiny’s range.

Two and a half years, our connection grew,
Before I gave into her irresistible pursuit.
A realization of self-discovery, coming to light,
As I embraced the truth of my own unique sight.

In the closet’s shadow, I found my way,
Guided by fate’s hand, in the light of day.
Coming out, my thoughts unfurled,
She stood by my side, as I reshaped my world.

Long-distance whispers across state lines,
A love so deep, like vintage wines.
Florida to Ohio, miles and miles apart,
Yet, she captured my soul and entered my heart.

Through video calls and messages, love took its place,
A connection so strong, no distance can erase.
Her laughter echoed through a virtual space,
Serenading me in a symphony of love and unspoken grace.

In her, I found a safe harbor, a haven of peace,
Long-distance love, a sweet release.
She, a lighthouse, guiding me through,
In the vast ocean of love, our connection grew.

Miles may stretch, but love knows no bounds,
With the help of fate, our story resounds.
A love that bridges the space and time,
A testament to fate, beautifully sublime.

Here’s to the place where it all began,
Our fate smiled, as it crafted our unique plan.
In the Spectrum of love, we found our place,
A love story written by destiny’s grace.

Note: I wrote this last New Years day. I found and re-read it yesterday and realized that in part that my prayer was answered. Some of it is still in the process of being answered.

As we close the curtain on 2022 and pull back the curtains to a bright, new you I don’t know what to expect. I couldn’t have imagined 2022 going the way it did, so please forgive my anxious anticipation, and please know that it is also mixed with an excitement and enthusiasm to reset and begin again.

I pray that I change, heal, and progress throughout the year. I pray that you teach me the lessons God knows I need to learn to be who He has created me to be. I pray that you are a gentle teacher full of compassion, kindness, “I love yous” and and “I’m sorrys.” I hope this year is full of adventures, full of laughter and love, and that it is surrounded with healthy friendships that continually call us both to excellence and holiness.

Most importantly I want to strengthen my relationship with God, to listen to his voice, to trust and rely on Him fully in every moment and to give Him everything.

I ask for protection for my………
Mind
Heart
Soul
Body
Friends
Family
Home

in the upcoming year. Deliver us Lord from every temptation, evil, danger and/or harm that the enemy could imagine. Make us holy.

2023 you have large shoes to fill. I know the Lord has given you a big purpose to fulfill. I know that the Lord is just a step ahead of me–He’s already in 2023 dealing with each trial, making a message out of a mess and guiding my footsteps. And so I dare to follow Him wholeheartedly into the unknown, into the heart of you–2023. Welcome 2023! I can’t wait to see what you have in store.

Sincerely,