Dear Grief and Felicia,

Grief, you came crashing into my life without warning, the day I lost my son, Joshua. Losing him was the hardest thing I have ever faced, a pain so deep and consuming that it felt as though the ground beneath me had disappeared. At first, I hated you. You felt like a thief who robbed me of joy, peace, and the future I imagined. Your presence was unbearable, your weight relentless. But with time, I began to see you differently. You weren’t here to destroy me, you were here to transform me.

Your lessons were excruciating, but they opened my eyes. You forced me to sit with emotions I never wanted to feel, pushing me to my knees where I cried out to God. It was there, in my brokenness, that I found His presence more profoundly than ever before. You showed me that God is my anchor, my strength when I have none left, and the steady hand guiding me through the darkness. You revealed that even in the deepest pain, His love remains constant, a lifeline when the storms of life rage.

Grief, you made me look inward. You didn’t just expose my pain, you revealed my resilience. You taught me to trust the still, small voice within me, the one God placed there to guide me. You forced me to face truths about myself, my fears, and my flaws, and in doing so, you gave me the courage to grow. Through you, I learned that healing isn’t about forgetting but about honoring what was lost and finding strength to carry it with grace.

Felicia, this is where I turn to you. Thank you. Thank you for being resilient. Thank you for surviving what felt impossible and for refusing to let grief consume you. You chose to rise, even when it would have been easier to give up. You found purpose in your pain, and through that, you created something extraordinary.

You started a production company in Joshua’s honor to help others heal. Through stories of faith, hope, and love, you are bringing light to those walking their own journeys of loss. You also wrote a book, pouring your heart onto its pages, to guide others through their grief and offer them a path toward healing. Felicia, these acts are not just achievements, they are your way of ensuring that Joshua’s legacy lives on, touching lives and inspiring hope.

Grief, thank you for teaching me to value what truly matters. You reminded me that time is valuable and sacred, that every moment with loved ones is a gift. You taught me to speak words of kindness, to set boundaries, and to prioritize my mental and emotional health. Through you, I learned that self-care is not a luxury but a necessity, and that it’s okay to give myself grace, to rest, to process, and to heal.

Felicia, I’m so proud of you for embracing those lessons. You’ve transformed your pain into a mission that uplifts others. You’ve chosen to honor Joshua not by dwelling in sorrow but by creating something meaningful, something that brings healing and hope to others. You are proof that even in the face of unimaginable loss, it’s possible to find strength, purpose, and a way forward.

Grief, you are no longer my enemy. You are part of my story, a reminder of love so profound it changed me forever. You showed me that pain doesn’t erase love; it amplifies it. Through you, I’ve learned that life’s darkest moments can lead to the most profound transformations. You’ve taught me that healing is not about moving on but about moving forward, carrying the love and memories of those we’ve lost.

Thank you Felicia, you are the shero of this story. You faced unimaginable pain, yet you turned your grief into a testament of faith, resilience, and love. Thank you for walking this path with courage and for reminding yourself, and others, that even in brokenness, there is beauty. Together, grief and Felicia, you’ve shown me that the hardest journeys can lead to the most extraordinary transformations.

Joshua’s light continues to shine through you, Felicia, in everything you do. Through the production company, through your book, and through the love you pour into others, his legacy lives on. Grief gave you the tools, but you chose to use them for good. For that, I am deeply grateful.

Thank you, Grief, for teaching me resilience, faith, and purpose. Thank you, Felicia, for being brave enough to welcome the lessons, rise from the ashes, and use your pain to create masterpieces. Together, you have shaped a life filled with meaning, love, and hope.

Thank you both Grief and Myself for the strength to endure, the courage to transform, and the faith to find purpose in pain.

With love, faith, and gratitude,

Thank you for getting through.
Thank you for all you do!
Thank you for breathing.
Thank you for receiving.
Thank you for believing.
Thank you for achieving.
Thank you for giving life meaning.
Thank you for speaking freely.
Thank you for sometimes taking it easy.
Thank you for sometimes being the only one believing in me.
Thank you for looking at myself and uplifting me.
Thank you to the person I grew to be.
Thank you to yours truly.

You got this! even when you think you don’t
When things get dark and results seem unknown
Understand that giving up isn’t an option
And we can’t allow ourselves to drown in our emotions
Everybody has some rough days, I know I had the worst
And I done been ignored by people I love when I told them I was hurt
But a lot of people don’t even know how to show up for you
And everyone can’t really relate to what you are going through
But Don’t dwell on those thoughts don’t look for no false reality
Just Focus on you and be who you aspire to be
Cause Real people gonna be in your corner if you do the same
And wack people gonna show they true colors they can’t help but to be lame!
Just Focus, and just stay the course
Dead all them negative thoughts, no remorse!
That negative spiral will get you caught in a trap
Being too real to the fake will leave YOU unhinged and not intact
And they are looking for a refill yet your cup is empty
Meanwhile they still half full and won’t even share any with me
But if you let them win then that makes you a loser
You should be concerned only with how to get them out your life sooner
Cause At the end of the road this life is over
Meanwhile you wasting time going out sad looking for a sign or some closure
And I know people who love deep find it hard to detach
But if you go today it’s giving settle for less would be your only impact
When you set boundaries the people who love you will respect them
And if you really setting boundaries you can’t buckle down for her or for him
You gotta show people that you deserve a soft life
If you don’t show them how they supposed to see that shit right?
And I know that’s not an easy task
But much better than living life behind a mask
Being miserable every day is a crazy life
But imagine living with regrets in the afterlife
Don’t be malicious to people ever, but be true to you more than anyone
Always remember when your cup was empty and they had some they had no problem leaving you with none
And not taking care of yourself is self abuse and toxic
People pleasing is manipulative as fuck… it’s a mind trick
Cause scraping up something to give someone what you don’t have
I think that might be the beginnings of creating a psychopath
Cause when you thirsty and your cup empty you start thinking crazy
Depression and anxiety co exist while you dying of thirst but they hydrated!
Then when their cup starts running low they like here you can have a sip
Then they like “Just make sure when you done can refill my shit”
So focus on happy no matter who you have to leave behind
Life is short we really don’t have too much time
Pour into yourself and if your cup overflows you can give them a lil drip sometimes

You did not deserve that. You didn’t realize it at the time, but you and her both had to go through it, for something bigger that made no sense to you at all. It was understandable why you felt the way that you did, but you have no idea how wrong you were. You were not a meek little girl with no chance of happiness in your life, although you couldn’t see that yet. You were always worthy of being loved.

Our half-siblings stood behind you in the bedroom doorway in the middle of the night, watching the crash of our parents’ marriage. Our father grabbed the heavy glass ashtray with old cigarettes butts still in it and threw it across the room, aiming for our mother.

She ducked and the ashtray hit the wall and shattered to pieces, along with any last string of hope they had for each other. She shut the door and told him to choose us or the alcohol.

He chose alcohol. He also told her that you were coming with him and when she fought him on it, they held you suspended in the air, asking who you wanted to go with. How could they ever think that was fair? You were three years old and had no idea what you wanted. You picked the first person you made eye contact with, which was mom, and you chose to stay with her. You made your bed and would surely lie in it, but one day, it would all make sense.

After dad left, she became a single mother of three children and we grew up in unsafe and poor neighborhoods. We were constantly moving homes because rent was raised or she wasn’t able to pay the bills. We were on a constant loop of moving places and schools and going to stay with friends or family.

On our 10th birthday, she was about to leave for work and was crying. She told us she felt guilty that she could only afford one cupcake and one Barbie doll, unwrapped. We knew how tight money was, so this meant even more and we were so excited for the gift. She may not have known it, but we really looked up to her for working so hard to put a roof over our heads, regardless of the moving, lack of birthday gifts, and the amount of time she was away for work.

There was a point that it all changed and she broke. Growing up, we knew she had depression and it ran in her side of the family, but we didn’t know what we were going to learn when we got older. I know that there isn’t anything in this world that you wanted more than for her to show up as a mother.

When you told her about being sexually abused by a family member, she told you that your siblings didn’t believe you and found out years later, she never told them. When you told her about a different family member trying to touch you, she said he did that to her all the time, and she wasn’t surprised…and yet she let you stay the night there.

In the beginning of 7th grade, she picked you up from school telling you that she met a guy online, was in love and was moving that night to go live in another state to be with him. She offered for you to go with her or with her brother and his wife. This will be the best thing that has ever happened to you.

With both of your parents leaving you, you’ll wonder how anybody could ever love you if the people that were programmed to love you couldn’t. You’ll go through many long years fighting abandonment issues, depression and anxiety.

When you are 18, you’ll be reunited with your long-lost father. You will learn that you have a 50% chance of having Huntington’s disease, which is a genetic neurological disease in his family. You’ll learn that there isn’t a cure, it attacks any part of your brain it wants to, and you’ll be faced with a choice to get tested at 18.

You had to go through it all to become the brave woman that you are. You’ll choose to get tested and will be diagnosed, but it won’t hold you back in life. You’ll find the best man who adores you and knows how deserving of love you are.

You will use writing as a coping mechanism to help deal with the chaos after she left, and you will fall deeply in love with words, hoping to help heal others through them.

She had to go through her own journey, and so did you to see how beautiful life was going to be.

Dear Shyasia (child-like-self)

I am so grateful to have you, Shyasia.

Your love is what has kept you going, despite everything.

Healing from mother wounds and father wounds–the first class division before I was ever made aware of class.

We were so shocked one day when your step-dad revealed that we were lower-class! I was so shocked, and both mommy and daddy laughed at me.

From all we knew, we had everything. Shelter, food, each other, our family–we had everything.
I was so sad when he moved away. Or when mommy kicked him out. I guess our first heart-break was when he left you. You just remember being really sad one day–you were crying. Crying. Crying. Broken. And Hurt. Then, the next day, you found the light in the situation.
“At least I get to spend time with mommy.”
You slept in our mother’s bed for the next 7ish years. And the house weathered away, and eroded, year by year. Pests filled up. And dishes began to pile up more and more and more. Hurt, grief, anguish and pain always seemed to come knocking at your door.

You have clung onto your light since the day that you were born.
And your light is something that you have never shied from.
It is what kept you going. It was what keeps us going. It is what will always keep me going.

You do not cease to amaze me.
I wrote a poem, titled Jester, once.
At the time, I didn’t re

I have learned that I am amazing. And so smart. And so brilliant. And so fucking intelligent. And so fucking beautiful–I am your wildest, wildest, most wildest dream.

I choose to lead with my heart-first. I choose to make conscious efforts every day to use my wisdom–transforming the pain from the past’s glass, smelting the shards into a bedazzled glass framed by gold and pearls and beauty and glitter-
And I trust myself to make decisions that are in alignment with me. I choose to stay authentic to myself.I choose to assert my boundaries. I choose to spread love. I choose to be everything that makes me me.

Thank you so much for being you.
It is what makes me, me.

Love Shyasia/Sweet-pea/My love/ My sweetest love/My darling/My absolute beauty
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This is dedicated to someone who I recently learned to love again. She isn’t simple like one would think; she is very deep in the way that she thinks. Not only is she confident, but she is also comfortable in her own skin. She doesn’t have to wear a façade, for she knows exactly who she is. She never claimed to be anything other than real, because that’s who she is.

While minding her own business, she’s maintaining, trying her best to heal from childhood trauma she can no longer conceal. I love everything about her, even her messed-up ways. She isn’t blind to her own mind, so she is aware of how different she is. The kind of love and loyalty she provides is the kind in life you won’t find twice.

She is her mother’s youngest child; her strength, she inherited. Leo is her sun sign, and her moon is in Aries. When it comes to being controlled, she is unwilling. She is guaranteed to break all the rules—not once, but twice. In her mind, her only limitation is herself, so she is resilient in all that she does.

She’s the type that volunteers to be the one who tests the waters, knowing damn well she can’t swim. Those types of challenges are what she lives for. She likes to know that she’s alive. She was often silenced as a young child, and the chances of her being heard were slim. That’s why today she sometimes still has trouble voicing her words. She would much rather have a piece of paper and a pen, so she can write about what she loves.

She has big dreams with a vivid, picture-perfect memory. One day, she hopes she can somehow help change the world. She has made it her mission to spread love to everyone she sees, and hopes it has the capability to reach those in need. You see, love is the one thing that’s free; it’s what this world needs. Every soul matters; each and every one is deserving of love.

With that being said, it helps remind me of one thing: all this love I have to give started from within. No matter what she continues to love and believe in herself . That’s the reason I wrote myself this letter.

Oh heart that beats within my chest,
I pause to thank you—my quiet guest.
For every step, though fraught with pain,
For battles fought, for losses gained.
You’ve walked the fire, you’ve braved the storm,
And kept my spirit whole, my soul warm.

When life was cruel and brought me low,
When tears fell fast, when hope ran slow,
You knelt in prayer, your will unbowed,
And found strength where none was allowed.
From those moments, stripped and bare,
You rose anew, a force so rare.

You taught me courage lives inside,
A strength no trial could ever hide.
Though fear may whisper, “It’s too much,”
You answered back with faith as such:
“I am more than the shadows claim,
A child of light, of love, of flame.”

Oh self, I thank you for standing tall,
For finding grace when I could fall.
You’ve held integrity close, in view,
A compass steady, a path so true.
You’ve stood for others, the voiceless crowd,
Their silent pleas—your actions loud.

For John, whose justice fuels my fire,
You brought me faith, you raised me higher.
To Father Jim, whose wisdom speaks,
You led me close in my soul’s peaks.
Their names, like seeds, in my heart grow,
Their legacy—my life’s bright glow.

In “What Does Your Garden Grow,” I penned,
The Spirit’s fruit, where trials end.
Through every “Godwink,” every sign,
You reminded me of love divine.
From my father’s passing, grief’s sharp sting,
You turned my mourning to blossoming.

And for the scholarships, pledged with care,
A tribute born from love’s deep prayer.
To give back, to plant seeds anew,
This, dear self, is the best of you.

The journey taught what words can’t frame,
That good endures, though evil maims.
Even if justice hides its face,
The righteous path is still the race.
For there’s a war, unseen yet clear,
But faith casts out the darkest fear.

To my faith, you’ve brought me near,
To whispers of a God who hears.
Each trial, each tear, has shaped this truth:
That light outlives the shadow’s tooth.
And though the road was scarred and steep,
Your steadfast steps my soul will keep.

So thank you, self, for being strong,
For knowing where the weak belong.
For fighting battles, unseen, unknown,
For making every trial your own.
For finding God in grief’s embrace,
And building gardens out of waste.

Oh heart within, my faithful guide,
Through darkest nights and shifting tides,
I thank you now, and every day,
For walking steadfast in God’s way.
For teaching me that love must reign,
And through it all, my faith sustains.

Yes, good will triumph, this I see,
If not in life, in eternity.
And every step, though hard to take,
Has led to truths that cannot break.
So here I stand, and here I bow,
To thank the me who lives here now.

With love, with pride, with deepest grace,
I see the light within your face.
And know, dear self, you’ve won the fight—
A beacon burning in the night.

Hello my Dear,
There are some things I have been wanting to say.
Things that I need to express from my heart
about the hopes and dreams,
and the other big things you had planned for me from the start.
Thank you.

The tough times
The rough times
The enough times
All those times that you stood alongside,
helping me to gather myself from the inside.
Deep down where no one could see or hear
not wanting to face what even I feared.
Thank you.

This is about giving thanks.
Thanks to you, My Dear.
Thank you for helping me to grow over 5 decades and 5 years.
Again, I say thank you.

From a shy little girl to a woman with a voice,
using my words to express how I really feel,
while learning to set boundaries has been the biggest deal.
Thank you.

Understanding that I am worthy to be in someone’s space and feel safe.
I am worthy of another’s time.
Their prime time, not to be mistaken for their spare time.
Thank you.

Showing that I have a heart of gold,
and that I care deeply for those I hold close.
While also knowing that if love and friendship are not reciprocated,
it is okay for me to let go as a way of protecting my core,
the most valuable thing I have….that would be me of course.
Letting go does not mean not loving or caring anymore,
it’s just a way of preserving one’s soul.
Thank you.

I Love hard and I work hard.
I have accomplished many things because of you,
with the understanding that we are never through.
Highly educated while making it my life’s work to educate others.
An entrepreneur and a published author,
these are just a few things that I’ve brought to fruition because of you.
So I will continue to Thank you.

I could say Thank You a million times over and it would never be enough.
Without you believing in me this road would be tough.
So I salute you My Dear for showing me how to be free
and opening my eyes to see.
It is you My Dear who is me.
Thank you.

To the Child Inside the Storm,

Thank you.

Thank you, for holding on when you were ready to let go.
When you try so hard but never measure up to expectations.
When you became a disappointment instead of “Daddy’s Little Girl.”
When the words, “I’m proud of you” are never spoken.
Thank you, for holding on when you were ready to let go.

Thank you.

Thank you for stepping out, when you wanted to run away.
For giving him your number and meeting face to face.
For having the courage to move hours away from “home.”
For putting pen to paper the first time after an accidental OD.
Thank you for stepping out, when you wanted to run away.

Thank you.

Thank you, for finding strength when you were paralyzed inside.
When you hear the words “stage 4 cancer, it doesn’t look good.”
When you lose your only true friends within months of each other.
When you have to say, “Good-bye” and feel life abandon the one you love.
Thank you, for finding strength when you were paralyzed inside.

Thank you.

Thank you for loving again, when you’ve endured devastating loss.
For taking a chance and getting married to a man you thought you knew. .
For choosing natural birth and embracing ALL of the pain.
For finding life and love in the eyes of your “special angels”
Thank you for loving again, when you’ve endured devastating loss.

Thank you.

Thank you, for choosing life when all hope and desire to live was gone.
When your marriage becomes a nightmare instead of a dream come true.
When you start to believe “you’re crazy” and “don’t deserve the respect you’re demanding.”
When you almost end it all with a bang and choose Christ instead.
Thank you, for choosing life when all hope and desire to live was gone.

Thank you.

Thank you for choosing surrender, when the road ahead was unknown.
For trusting God and moving back to your hometown.
For finding your people, purpose, and passion.
For stepping into your vulnerability and unveiling your strength.
Thank you for choosing surrender, when the road ahead was unknown.

Thank you.

Thank you, for your acceptance when all you’ve known is rejection.
When your inner child stops hiding and learns to be silly again.
When you show off your style even if you walk alone.
When you learn to love yourself, just as you are.
Thank you, for your acceptance when all you’ve known is rejection.

Thank you.

Thank you for never giving up on me, when I had nothing left to give.
For standing strong even when you can’t move forward.
For seeing beauty in the sunrise after a raging storm.
For finding a reason to laugh, love, and live again.
Thank you for never giving up on me, when I had nothing left to give.

To the Child Inside the Storm,

Thank you.

Thank you for being a Little Girl with a Warrior’s Heart.

I stare at a picture.
A little girl sitting on the cement step of her nan’s porch.
A set of baby blue French doors are the background.
She’s wearing a swimsuit on a sunny day, holding up a big bubble on it’s wand.
I close my eyes and I can feel her far away.
She’s hidden under the weight of 28-years-or-so of life.
Like a low lit lamp somewhere burning deep in my soul.
Breathing her breath I smile her smile.
she says “thank you.”
I am her and the lamp burns bright.

“thank you for showing up for me.”
I’m sorry for the people that didnt show up for you.
“thank you for always learning”
I love knowing everything about you.
“thank you for doing the things you love”
You inspire me! You’re so much fun.
“thank you for trying to be better”
I will never stop caring for you!
“thank you for the love you’ve given”
I wish you knew how loved you are.
“thank you for not leaving me”
I will always keep you safe.
“will you share this light with others?”
I’d love to, oh how I love you!
“i love you more.”

Mrs. Clarke,
Thank you for opening your heart. You remained the accused hopeless romantic, but you knew the reward would be gigantic. You opened it to players, liers, and manipulators. Your heart was bruised, flipped and put in refrigerators. Yet, you opened it again, and again; so it was ready for when. When the right one came along. I thank you for holding on. Six years you dated, six years you waited and I thank you for your patience. You knew love was real, so you learned to heal. Then you tripled your heart with 3 little Clarkes. From Akeva to Mrs. Clarke, mom, just me and now Key. Thank you for being everything you knew you could be. Your life back then was OK, but you traded it, just to say momma I’m making it. Big dreams of writing scenes, were suppressed but you always debated it. So you wrote, and every stroke, brought light into your life. You wrote the pain, you wrote the gain, you wrote to just maintain. So thank you, for never dropping the pen, so the life you were meant for could begin.

Hi there,

I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could interrupt you for a moment. I know you’re incredibly busy, so I’ll try to be brief. I really don’t intend to use up a lot of your time, and I’m not really sure if this is the most appropriate moment to do this, but I guess it’s just as an appropriate time as any….. Anyway, I’m rambling now, so I’ll just jump right into it.
I don’t normally do things like this—I’m sure you’ve noticed, but a lot of the people around here don’t consider me to be the most cheerful, easy-going, or friendliest person here—but I was prompted by a very sudden and gripping inclination, an overwhelming impulse, some sort of unrestrainable urge to come tell you this, and to tell it to you right now. Perhaps you could chalk it up to an intuitive feeling, or simply a startling inclination, or even some sort of holy premonition if you consider yourself religious, but some anonymous outside source possessed me and will not leave me be until I relay this message to you.
Okay, here it goes. I feel like I haven’t really known you up until this past year, and while this whole thing turned out to be an incredible and rewarding experience, you and I both know it hasn’t really been smooth-sailing from the get-go. We did things that were really hard mentally, physically and arguably spiritually, and I mean shit that anyone with any common decency wouldn’t wish on their biggest enemy. We went through a lot, and I was really stressed out, and I was very hard on you. While I always went into every situation with the best of intentions, I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have to you and I took things out on you that weren’t your fault. I’m very sorry for all of it, and I want to say thank you for making it so easy to move forward. Thank you for being such a good sport about everything.
In addition to your graciousness and positivity, I wanted to thank you for your consistency. I’ve watched you demonstrate tenacity through little things like making it into one of your shitty minimum wage jobs to work at least eight hours every single day, or taking the dog out every night in the freezing cold while you were exhausted and hungry, or prying yourself out of bed in a panic some nights because you realized you forgot to lock the door, and God knows there was no one else there to help you do it. All of your friends were out on the weekends indulging on sugar-filled cocktails and dancing with strangers in crowded, tawdry dive bars til the early hours of the morning, while you were navigating through diner booths, touting piping hot plates of microwaved slop to screaming children and ill-mannered geriatrics with more money than you could ever dream of obtaining. I saw all the sacrifices you made, even when you weren’t really sure if they’d be worth it in the end. Your commitment has really improved our situation. Thank you for all the hard work you’ve put in.
And all of that stuff is really hard, sure, consistency and persistence and hopping on the daily grind are all challenging, but I saw the really hard shit you had to go through on top of all that that everyone else didn’t. You had a lot of tough conversations you hoped to never have. You learned to forgive a lot of people who didn’t deserve it (I know that part was especially hard for you). You separated yourself from people you thought you’d never survive without, and you missed them dearly during the process. You faced sickness, hunger, sadness, depression, confusion, destitution, rejection and loneliness and you did it all on your own.
You still with me? I’m sorry for dragging this out. I’m almost done now. Here’s my main point: Despite all of this, you always tried to do the right thing. That’s the important part, I think. Because all of us go through bad things, everyone is punished for being alive sometimes, and all the human beings on our sad little planet experience pain and suffering. What defines a person is not their share of the horrors they endured, but how they choose to act while experiencing them, and you truly did your best in the midst of them.
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I think all that’s behind us now. It’s really been an absolute pleasure, and thank you for doing all you did. Thank you for making this whole thing worthwhile.

Thank you,
Your New Friend

Dear Alanoud,
Just breathe….
I know there are moments when you look at your health journey and ask, “Why me?” and that is a valid question. You’ve faced challenges that many might never fully understand—four major surgeries, countless battles, and a journey that demands more from you than anyone could expect. I know your life is put on hold at the moment. Yet, despite it all, you have chosen to persevere. Just continue breathing.
I want you to know how deeply I admire your strength even though sometimes I don’t believe in you. Life has tested you in ways that could have left anyone feeling defeated, but you’ve shown resilience in the face of it all. You’ve continued to fight, not because it’s easy, but because you have a strength within you that refuses to give up. With every challenge, you’re proving to yourself and the world just how much you can endure.
You’ve looked at this battle, with all its pain and struggle, and said, “I’m thankful because it’s making me stronger.” That perspective—the ability to find growth in adversity—is a gift, and I know how long it took to have this mindset. It’s a reflection of your courage, your wisdom, and your belief in something greater: the possibility of becoming even more powerful and grounded because of what you’ve endured.
With each scar and each struggle remember this: you are not defined by the hardships you’ve faced but by how you’ve chosen to face them—with grace, determination, and an open heart. Your journey is uniquely yours, and it is shaping you into someone even more extraordinary than you already are.
Keep going, Alanoud. Keep asking, keep growing, and keep fighting. I know we have a long way to go. You are more powerful than you know, and this battle is shaping you into the strongest version of yourself.
Proud of you,
Alanoud

Three hundred sixty-five days. I’d gone without being with my mother.
She stood at the top of the stairs waiting—for her only daughter to come home to her.
My tears embraced her as her arms wrapped around me.
Heart over heart.
Finally, I thought, breathe.
I like to hold on to that memory.
Twenty days. I had with my mother that summer. It hadn’t mattered much to me at the time.
The days.
I’d always known there would be more. Until there wasn’t.
I hope one day it brings comfort.
Now. It just burns.
All I can do is remember.

My chest rises and falls in rapid bursts, the oxygen I force inside slicing my lungs like waves shattering against a fractured cliff. Thank you for breathing. Thank you.

Four months. Tears knot in my throat as I struggle to find comfort within these four walls untouched by the tips of fresh acrylics.

Soggy pillow sheets. Wet cheeks. Cracked lips.
I trek through a forest of clothes dirty and clean. They form mountains in the dark corners of the room. There is nowhere for me to go, no comfort to run to and still I move.
And, I thank you for moving. Thank you.

Water sways from the horizon, pushing and pulling at the shore. Seasalt swirls through my snot-filled nostrils. But, my nose begs for the smells of herbs, oil and incense, of expensive perfume, occasionally bought and always worn. It begs so much it bleeds.
And, I thank you for smelling. Thank you.

Salt carves unforeseen paths down my cheeks, crashing against chattering teeth. Metal swirls red from aching gums, crying lips, begging nostrils, and screaming cuticles. I imagine that it’s my mother’s homemade spaghetti I taste, not the blood from my own fingers. I imagine my burning gums are from all the spice I begged she add to every meal, pain we once welcomed with shared laughter.
And, I thank you for tasting. Thank you.

The waves race against one another to reach the shore. They calm as they near the edges of my feet, wrapping my rough skin in a kind embrace like that of kisses from a new mom onto her baby’s feet, unscarred. The rush of moments once lived flow from one ear and out the other. Murmured chatter of old phrases, jokes, and music shared pass through the winds of time, bouncing around the inside of my mind unwillingly.
Still, I thank you for listening. Thank you.

Five days. I left my mother for five days. She hugged me when I left. We’d made plans for the holidays. Five days.

The landscape is blurred by the bubbling in my eyes. The color drains from the skyline as I am forced to welcome the night in. Trees bend at the beckon of the passing breeze. Leaves flutter like that of a butterfly’s wings. The individual black curls that wrap around my face shine in the glowing moon, just like my mother’s once had.
Even more so, I thank you for seeing.

Twenty one years. I lived on the foundation of my mother’s love. Seven months. I waited to see her. Twenty-seven days. I had not known pain.

I know pain.
I know when the salt stings, when the waves roar, the heart cries and the brain burns as unsaid words, unforgotten failures, missed moments—three hundred sixty-five days—fight to escape and there is no mother to call you home, no mother to wake you, no mother to love you, no mother to move you, no mother to know you, no mother to listen to you, no mother to calm you, and no mother to warm you.
I know.
And I thank you.
I thank you.
All I can do is breathe.
All you can do is breathe.
So, I thank you for breathing, through the stabbing in your chest.
For moving, against the pressure of an unrelenting pain.
For tasting, though there are flavors that will never touch the tip of your tongue again.
For smelling, the smoke of fires you stop yourself from sparking.
For listening, when there are no words to heal you.
For seeing, when you don’t recognize the reflecting brown eyes.
For feeling, when it is easier to succumb.
Thank you.
Thank you for staying.
In a life that is at its most impossible.
Thank you for staying.
In a place that you would not be blamed for fleeing.
Thank you for staying.
In this moment.
With all the suffering it brings.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you for loving. Me. Even when the love seems as though it will not go anywhere. It will not change anything. You still do.
Amber.
If I haven’t said it enough.
Thank you for breathing.

OUR STORY ISN’T OVER YET

You made it…you’re still in one piece and alive so you did it. Your whole life you have only had two fears. The fear of dying and the fear of losing a child. Strangely enough you always worried that “losing” them meant death but never in your wildest dreams did you think losing them while they were still alive was even an option.
Then it happened, you got yourself out of an abusive relationship never thinking that someone would be so vengeful, so hateful, so spiteful, cruel and malicious that they would turn your own sons against you with horrendous lies. The same sons that you devoted your entire life to. People would say your whole face would light up when you spoke about them. You truly without any second to think would have given your life for any of them and to this day still would in spite of the fact that your heart is broken into a million different piece. How could this have possibly happened and how did you survive your worst fear coming true? I still marvel that you are alive after the thoughts that I know went through your mind on a regular basis.
There are days that I don’t even know how you functioned. Crying non stop as soon as you closed the door to the outside world I thought for sure would either break you or you would simply run out of tears. You lacked so much sleep, going to bed sick to your stomach and waking up the exact same way when you did actually fall asleep.
You walked out the door and the world never knew what was actually going on because you smiled and only you knew what hid behind that smile. Therapy, researching, support groups, reading books and reading more books until the words blurred with the tears and you couldn’t read anymore.
I don’t know how or when but all of a sudden you had the strength that I didn’t know was possible to go on. It was like you just picked yourself up one day and “put on your big girl panties” and knew the only way to survive was to not let that “evil” take over your life.
I always knew you were a strong woman but I honestly was not sure this time you would recover from this. You would never ever take anything away from anyone who has lost a child to death…that is a pain you/I cannot possibly fathom but losing a child who is still alive and the grandchildren that have come from them is a totally different pain that has no closure. Watching your grandchildren from a distance, having mutual friends that cannot understand how or why this is even happening sending you pictures of them cannot be explained unless you are actually going through it so I know the pain you are in on a daily basis.
I am so very grateful that you have the strength that you have shown. Honestly I have never been more proud of you than these last couple of years. You have come to terms with the fact that you can’t control how evil and nasty other people are but you can control how you let it destroy you. You have learned that grandparent alienation is actually a global epidemic. It doesn’t lessen the pain but you now know you are not alone in this horrible nightmare.
You still know that someday you will see them again because you have always been the type of person that never loses hope (although I know it gets harder and harder in this world) and also never gives up. So from me to me I love you and I love the strength that you have given to us. We are alive and we now can conquer anything that comes our way because we have survived one of our two biggest fears and our story isn’t over yet!

I am sorry to bother you. This part is true. But there are some important things that I need to share with you. So, sit back and listen as I reveal a beautiful story that I need to tell. In the end you will realize what love you truly held within and around you. Whoever let you down they have a greater picture of you now. All along you deserved the hugs, the kisses, the love, and the reassurance. All the love within you tried to ignore it. I am here to tell you how you succeeded in finishing those books you wanted to read. You wrote that story so everyone could see how loving and understanding your mind could truly be. Those words you spoke in the mirror worked. You found love and grace even after the hurt. More people believed in you than you could ever see and yes you became the loving person that you always knew you could be. You never gave up even when times seemed hard. You loved through your darkest hours even through the facades. It’s safe to say you succeeded against all odds. So, when you are feeling lost or in doubt like you are not enough, just know that you are worth so much even if things get tough. I thank you for the love that you have given me and in myself I shall always believe. We are FREE!