There are those times when I’d like someone to know what is going on in my life, the struggle, the trial and yes the heartache, but saying it out loud makes it more of a reality. Life is certainly interesting. Just like that, someone can come back into my life only to begin the process of saying goodbye.
My heart has been heavy as I instinctively know where this part of my journey is leading. I begin to set things up and organize an end of life care plan and I wonder, have I been being prepared for this moment all along?
All I’ve ever wanted was time with you, to know you more, better and completely, but that wish never came to fruition. It’s as though I’ve been grieving and mourning the loss of you repeatedly for my entire life so far and then…
Easter Sunday comes and a stranger reached out to me through FB messenger. She informed me of the situation. Her mom, also essentially a stranger, had gone into the hospital and from there this conversation went on for 1 1/2 hours. I knew what I had to do and the next morning I began making calls, calling on all my resources, experience and knowledge from my in home care business to make a care plan and 3 days later I found myself in my car headed up north to visit the man I call Daddy. When I arrived, the situation was a little worse than I expected as I jumped into work mode to begin the process of a care plan.
In those first 8 hours I learned more than I ever knew and I will treasure them for the remainder of my life. My Daddy and I spent the day talking just the 2 of us, crying and sharing our hearts. Somehow I knew this was the moment I’d longed for since I was a little girl and in one sentence he was able to mend my deepest wound I’ve attempted to fill and repair on my own and with The Lord. I had always thought it had been irreparable after all this time until he told me of the day I was born. He spoke as if it were yesterday, how blessed he had felt. When he shared with me “the second they put you in my arms honey, I just knew you were my special, precious, baby girl and I loved you”. The feeling that washed over me was, “WANTED”.
A lifetime of this emptiness and struggle resolved with his simple declaration spoken from his heart to mine. God’s Mercy and Grace brought restoration I never knew I could have. Memories are few and very far between, but those that I do hold, I praise God for this ultimate gift today that I will cherish for eternity.
Now we walk through these days in preparation for our Daddy to go home to be with The Lord for only He knows the plan for the end that will be his new beginning for his restoration as he crosses the finish line to victory. Amen🙏🏻💫🙌🏼💖
Sitting with my 10 1/2 year old granddaughter as she’s doing 5th grade history homework, she reads passages to me and abruptly stops to declare, “that’s not right Grammy!” Clearly she’s upset, knowing her as well as I do, she expresses her opinion about the paragraph she just read. “They’re not Indians, that’s not okay to say. I’m not writing that for my answer.” My heart, warmed by her compassion and directness, I explained first that “history” is what we’re being told because we didn’t live back then. She balked at that, but then I commended her for being appalled and asked her what her preference is to fill in the blank on her paper. She said she would just write Americans. Then I handed her the missing tool and suggested she add Native to her answer. She smiled, agreed and wrote her new choice.
While I try to be cognitive of teachable moments and what I often find is I’m not always the teacher, regardless of someone’s age. We talked a little more about this. I praised her for standing on her convictions, beliefs and using her voice. I thought to myself how oppression has been the downfall of my life, hence the internal struggle. I can only imagine the horrific stories from history and particular heritages, what they encountered and endured.
The topic of evolving took place with her next. We aren’t where we once were, but we aren’t yet where (I hope) we are going either. That’s being a difference maker, I explained. Not just standing by, quietly accepting the unacceptable or tolerating intolerance. Tell me more about your heart, I asked her. Never dismiss or fear the true words, thoughts and feelings of a child (or adult) because given a safe space, they will always honor their truth.
Is it merely human nature or even the human condition that we make up stories in our own minds, judging others for why they are in the spot they are in in life? It happens all the time, the assumption of another’s choices and blaming them for why they are in this or that predicament when the reality is, we can’t possibly know their story without asking them. We simply don’t know what we don’t know. (wisdom from my wise 87 year old friend)
Taking a moment to understand someone else as I listen to their thought provoking perspective makes me smile in gratitude. Being right is far less important to me than loving someone where they are. That being said, I leave you with this mantra; I’ll be quiet (not silent), you can be right and I’ll be happy. There is no price tag on civility and Serenity, but there sure as shootin’ is a cost for close mindedness.
If God (insert your personal Source here) meant for us to pray and believe only one way, why did He create so much diversity? Love is love for humankind. Be the change you want to see. Fear less by being fearless. I’m proud of my (almost 5) grand-youngsters and what their parents (my kids) are teaching them about equality and human rights. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.
I cried a solemn tear as another decided to join. A flood fell from my eyes, few of them have fallen over these past 2 years, I just hadn’t realized.
I’ve been holding my breath forgetting now and then. Relearning not to stuff things down, that life will begin again.
Today we sat in a formal court of law and chaos, only to have it postponed a dreaded 3 more months of hell. I glanced over in disbelief with the days passing by in jest.
Not knowing you’ll take yourself with you everywhere you go. Escaping is your game, haunting you in the night the demons start to glow.
Such a coward in a withering state. How did you convince me of so many horrid things? Running swiftly from your trap through the once locked down gate.
Faster I go till I reach the other side. My tear stained cheeks, no sacred place to hide.
I hate you for all of the things you’ve done. The torment you placed deep within, I battle it everyday. But more than that I despise who you’ve become.
You’ve disappointed me repeatedly, making me gasp. Unclench your fingers wrap them around your own neck. I’m reaching out for freedom in a world that I can grasp.
I fought to hold on Now I battle to let go Your presence inflicts residue Your absence reflects turmoil
What a fucked up mind Wreckage created by you All you’ve left behind There’s nothing more I can do You’ve hurt me for the last time
She thanked her profusely for never following through with her suicidal thoughts. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if there were actual attempts. She just let her brain assume so, but prayed there weren’t and won’t be anymore. Fear…
These two are so freakishly alike it’s a beautiful harmonious connection. They’ve shared those thoughts as if these were good bonding moments. Really what it says is, “I know better than anyone, and understand your heavy heart, the devastating pain and deepest hurts you’re feeling”. Her mama couldn’t possibly know how she felt exactly, but the agony resonated. The feelings of complete despair and just a desire for the pain to stop. Yeah, that she gets. Confusion…
Mama sits with her, she’s learning to listen, really hear her child’s anguish, obstacles, fears and all the past that floods her head and it all pours out. Sometimes her words are accompanied with anger and outbursts still, almost always with tears and probably for a long while still with confusion of what to do next. “Take it slow, but definitely at your pace”, she encourages her. Processing…
Let her just vomit her words so the poison is extracted. “It’s ok”, she tells her, “I can hold it for you sweetie, I can take it”. Mama knows her frustration isn’t about her necessarily. She can be her sounding board, but not her punching bag or doormat. She’s learned that part of detachment pretty well. It’s not without difficulty when it’s your own child. Unconditional…
Ever since she was 12 her favorite expression was, “I got this mom”. And you know, she always has. Mama smiles intently at her, “I know baby, but it’s ok not to have it all figured out right here right now. Give time time and let things come to you naturally when you can. Forcing solutions can be frustrating as hell, as can sitting still, I know”. Wisdom…
Their talks are more frequent now and her mama is grateful for the relief she sees in her child’s face more often, now and then, here and there. This is only the beginning of all the transitions ahead, yet the only thing that ever matters to her mama is her children’s happiness, contentment and feeling loved, all of them. Closeness…
She gave birth to her and her brothers, she has them all on borrowed time and she knows this too well. Time is fleeting and life is precious. How quickly it can disappear, how fragile it actually is. Guilt consumes her some days. The “if only’s” play out in her head and she cries. Sadness overwhelms her at times and she makes time to call her child just to say I love you. She can’t seem to hug her tight enough when she sees her. Never again will she ever feel her mama’s absence, nor will her brothers. Available…
The best path to travel 👆🏼
She thinks they still need her as they always have, but really it’s mama who’s needing them more. Present…
He was two, his vocabulary off the charts. A beautiful little child, expressive with a smile that sparked her mama’s heart, yet in the same breath, an unexplainable sadness about him. The frustrations were more frequent and the ability to comfort and soothe him were becoming increasingly difficult. At times he was inconsolable.
He was the middle child with a brother on either side. While the games they played were rough and tumble, he never much enjoyed them. As he grew, so did his sensitivity level. Mama became increasingly concerned. She began to wonder if her sweet little one needed therapy, for a toddler, a preschooler and eventually an adolescent? She was tormented and torn by his unexplainable agony, but this paled in comparison to what her child was dealing with, severe emotional pain, trauma, inner turmoil and self abuse with increasing suicidal tendencies.
She blamed the father of their three children. After all, he was the more broken one, the one who drank too much and often didn’t come home. Of course this child felt the tension and abandonment repeatedly. She missed the clues, they were so blatant, but only in retrospect.
Guilt washed over her, protect her babies from suffering was her obsession. Her focus had become tunneled, her energy consumed by what he was and was not doing for her, for them. Divorce became inevitable and so it came.
These three were the center of mama’s universe. Her sole purpose for being and now, she was all they had. With two tweens and a teen, they embarked with a fresh start, but it was becoming increasingly more challenging.
They were finding their footing, though mama was very strict, she was highly encouraging and supportive of their individuality. This same child seemed more devastated with every passing year, constantly testing her patience, he was heightened by his emotions, defiant yet fragile, sensitive and loving, with such rage and anger. He had become hell bent on breaking out and fighting for independence. Life was hard at times, but they were a team, the four of them. They always found their way, together.
Mama taught them about choices, they were theirs to make, but to know, the consequences also belonged to them, regardless, so try to choose wisely.
Her then 16 year old came home one day, his girlfriend beside him to announce they were having a baby. Six weeks after they graduated high school, a beautiful baby girl blessed all our lives, drawing them even closer as a family. This precious little girl was the joy that his mama thought was beginning to ground him, bring him a new purpose and a reason for living a wonderful life. Though it made a new set of challenges and difficulties, he took his role as a daddy very seriously and still does.
By age 27, this amazing person found a new sense of courage. A brave stand that would allow him the freedom to get very real and honest with himself after a lifetime of denying his true identity. The words he braced mama for, the ones that took four hours that night to find the courage to speak, four hours and nearly 27 years. With tears of relief streaming down his eyes, he blurted them out, “Mom, I’m a woman.”
And her mama sat there just listening to the words as they washed over her. A smile emerged from her lips, while a single tear rolled down her cheek and a sigh of relief escaped her breath. In that moment, “I love you sweetie” was all her child needed to hear as she herself melted for the acceptance from the woman who raised her…
Human rights validated by the One Who Created us all… 🏳️⚧️
The struggle she faces so torn up inside They knew from the beginning how to divide
This upheaval of emotions riddled in fear She couldn’t find the words so her secret she held near
As she grew up to question her true value and self She learned to conform with her feelings on the shelf
The rage burned within while she cried and she screamed Life was getting harder than she could have dreamed
Since the day she was born it was known only to her The truth of the matter was more than a blur
Her pain continued to grow with every passing day Nothing ever felt quite right but how could she stray
Amongst the many battles she had to dread None of them compare to the one inside her head
The worst part of all that rips at her heart Is the lack of acceptance that tears her life apart
This road she travels has been worn by others shoes They’ve trekked long before and still they fight to prove
Get over your fucking selves you judgmental, close minded, ignorant ones Human race filled with indifferences, these are our daughters and these are our sons
Intolerance will start a war blatantly with hate At the end of our lives who’ll be the ones standing at the gate
He didn’t open her door when she stood beside it, but only for a moment did she wait. She climbed in her seat there beside him, she seemed content and I thought of you… (Opening my door as I skillfully slid into my space next to you while you pulled out my seatbelt so graciously handing it to me)
They arrived at the restaurant, again she exited the truck, meeting him around the back where they made small talk heading to their destination and I thought of you… (I remained still, grinning as you walked over to my side once more, opening my door, offering your hand, I emerged as we made our way)
She stood outside the door looking at the sign, he said, “Allow me” as he grabbed the handle to the door, she stepped inside and I thought of you… (My hand never touched a door as long as I was with you)
They were seated, the menus presented and the question, “can I start you off with a drink” and I thought of you… (One menu was all that was required, my drink was chosen along with my meal, handled with care)
He picked up the check not a word was exchanged except when she offered to pay her share. He reached for his wallet thanking her, then stating he’d have to give up his man card while handing it off to the server without hesitation and I thought of you… (One of our first dates I noticed the price and you thanked me for being thoughtful then assured me it would be alright, the cost wasn’t an issue. I relaxed, feeling special)
She thanked him for treating her to a pleasant evening and wondered what to do next so they left out the door and she casually laced her hand through the bend in his arm and I thought of you… (Next to you I felt taken care of, protected and safe, looked after and thought, I felt loved)
There was the truck, the one they open their own doors for, the one they return home in, to the house they reside and I thought of you… (Again you pull open the door, buckle me in, my hand on your knee as it slides up your thigh, a peck on the cheek, with a twinkle in my eye. I thank you for a lovely evening, for treating me like your queen, I can hardly wait to get home to show you all the love in my heart)
He flips on the TV and she checks her phone. Divided by some walls, back to their own separate interests and distractions, it’s like the spark and the magic were left somewhere far behind and I thought of you… (We barely made inside with our hearts beating deeply, your hands all up in my hair, the door closes quickly as clothes fall to the floor)
She makes her way to the chilly room where she lays her head. At some point he will take his place beside her all cozied up in their bed. She’s fast asleep and he’s quiet while he slips between the sheets and I thought you… (We walk together down the darkened hallway to find that safe, familiar place, the warmth of your body comforts me while mine stirs up all your deepest desires)
They closed the door to the wonderful night without another word, he turned off the light, she rolled over, her back turned to him, now he lies there staring at the ceiling asking himself where have you been and I thought of you… (Engulfed in your arms I feel your hot breath, it smells like tequila, I smile to myself being pulled in closer, I don’t want to breathe if it means loosening your grip, I exhale, we are immersed, becoming just one, please don’t let me wake. I know you feel loved and I do too) and I thought of only you…
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.
We break up just to make up, but the truth is I never knew I could love so deeply and be broken so completely.
At 14 he began to steal my innocence, but I didn’t understand. I learned to be invisible not to take his brand.
Manipulation was the name of the game, but it was never myself that was to blame.
Insidiously he took from me every bit of trust, but it wasn’t my fault it was his lust.
My insides eroded as I seethed with anger and rage, but still I was trapped within my cage.
I chased love like a marathon runner who lost, but I kept up the pace no matter the cost.
It was at my own expense and deprivation that drove me straight to you, but I was convinced from the start I could see right through.
Dance with me was my wish, pull me close, never let me go to grieve, but you wouldn’t give instead you chose to leave.
Our agreement established by the one called master became null and void with the final slap, but had it not, forever I would’ve been snared in your most dangerous trap.
See your marks, how they still remain, the ones you said I deserve and had to earn, but once I thought, when will a good girl such as me ever learn?
You chose this with all your reality and truth revealed, but how would you expect me to keep it all concealed?
Manipulation, coercion, control and trickery used for destruction to tear me down, but you yourself put on my special, sparkling queen’s crown.
Every night my body poured into yours, but I was merely just one of your whores.
She must be fucked in the head, but it doesn’t matter since now she is long but dead
Did you know the child you birthed, may not be whom you thought they were? Can you understand they may be struggling with something more powerful, cunning and baffling than their own imagination? Do you accept what they perceive and actually know to be their truth, yet they’ve suppressed it for so long?
If you are further confused by what is seemingly bizarre and unexplainable behavior from a loved one, especially your own flesh and blood, the offspring you thought you knew, and you find yourself in constant concern, wonder and worry, you’re not alone, but they may feel as if they are.
Has you child come to you with a secret so deep they can’t muster up the words to speak so they stammer and stumble as they try to explain. You look at them perplexed, coaxing them to just say the words, assuring them it’s ok because you love them so much. You take notice the fear consuming them and yet you persuade them to trust you, hoping they feel safe. At last they just vomit the thing they wanted to share because in doing so they know, or at least can imagine, the relief they’ll feel once they open their busting heart.
Finally they blurt it out, the suppression they’ve been hiding behind, the one they could feel, but never knew why. They’ve felt crazy, like their own skin holding them together doesn’t really belong to them. They’re so uncomfortable they wish they could peel it away just to reveal what’s deep down within. Suddenly its out there and you can’t un-know the things you’ve been told and somehow you manage to take a gulp of air and exhale. You have little emotion, no true reaction yet as your heart begins to sing and you smile feeling their relief.
Terrified to tell you, but so desperate to get it out, they wait for you to say something, anything and the only thought to share is how much you love them. What else would a doting parent do? Reject this child or embrace them as you’ve always done? The choice is obviously the latter and so you choose that card and take the gamble. This child of yours is a sure bet so you feel pretty good about this decision.
For the past too many years to count, this child has been tormented inside, but by what? You pray for them and pour love into their souls. You cry over them, fret, worry and obsess over their very well being and still, until this blessed day would come, you continue to lose sleep and suffer for their pain.
They stray and stay away until they come back, wounded and confused, but you love them through it all. Because of you they can venture out to test the water and find their crooked way, but still you love them unconditionally because in a sense, they’re still yours. They face fear and they run, we watch and we wait, but somehow we find our way back to the other to touch home plate and feel that safety net wrap us up until we part another day.
Rest assured this path is their journey. They are never alone as we stand on the sidelines, cheering them along. They’ll find their way in the darkness and the light. Despite all the trials they will triumph in the night. Sleep well and take comfort they will be alright.
A loving, devoted mama bear. I share because I care.
The Whole Cookie 