As an adult, I have come to realize that I always hated when my mother would try to talk to me about personal matters: my first kiss, my first boyfriend, always asking questions about my menstrual cycle. In my opinion she simply was not the right person to have an open conversation with and still is not. Why?
Imagine wanting to have a genuine conversation with an individual that is supposed to automatically be on your side. Now you hear criticism that is not constructive for every action or feeling that you have followed by negative commentary. Throw in unsolicited advice here and there for situations that were never brought to said individual’s attention. Why on earth would anyone subject themselves to such misery?
Serious relationships have come and gone. Pain and heartbreak. Joy & euphoria. None of it has been shared with her. I look at other mother daughter relationships and admire how close they are. What is it like to have a mother that is fierce with her support of her daughter? Even without this important relationship in my life, there are still many blessings.
There are other maternal women that treat me like their own daughters. There are friends that treat me more like family than a friend. Such bonds help me to remain thankful for the life that I have and the people that I know. There is more to life than a text or FB messenger.
Good morning ladies. Along the way, you may encounter a situation where your heart is leading you in a different way from the path that you are following. When this occurs, stop what you are doing and fly in the proper direction.
Some people march to the beat of their own drum……others create the beat. One love.
I want more. The boss laid it on the line. It was not a threat. It is more of a push for my department to get more people involved. My heart sank and burned to ashes. The wind came and blew them away. After discussing the predicament with my coworker, she responded that she wanted to retire. My response was that I need to resign. My heart is not in the game anymore and has not been for a very long time.
These days, my interests lay in inspiring women. It has always been there since the very day this blog started. As my life lays before me with hard decisions and cold coffee, the matter of my day to day living still looms on the horizon. How the hell can I support myself all of the time with health insurance on my own? It has been difficult with a regular 9-5, but I have paid a heavy price for the convenience.
This is not the decade where college was yesterday and Starbucks was life. My forties have brought up new questions that have to have answers sooner than later. My life has gone through many a transformation over the last few decades. What is it going to take to make me feel as if I am living my purpose?
It was chilly. The live concert did absolutely nothing for me. The worldly collective sounds simply did not pierce my soul in the way that was anticipated. My face fell to the ground as my heart unfollowed the beat of the tabla. My cell kept appearing in my hands and boom. A missed phone call eluded to some sort of fun before turning into a pumpkin. A quick conversation soon led to tea and eye candy. Lots of late night eye candy.
My week was hellacious. Between the men that did not know how to flush, and surmounting issues at work, I was simply exhausted. Saturday was a high point in my schedule because of the planned time at a spa. As I made my way along the street, my phone rang. It was one of my mother’s cherished friends. She calmly explained to me that my mother had passed out while in church. Apparently there were several nurses on the site that jumped into action. Mommy was shaking violently because she was so cold. The women took their own sweaters and scarves and wrapped her in them. They placed her on the floor before she fell there. The water that she was trying to drink was not in synch with her mouth which caused a great alarm with the women. They realized that something was terribly wrong in addition to my mom announcing, “I feel faint”.
My phone continued to ring for about ten minutes. Different women were calling me. I could not cancel my appointment myself. I called a friend to take care of the task for me while I drove in one piece back to Baptist; the place of my brother’s birth, as well as the place of my father’s death. Back to Baptist Hospital I went. Once I saw my mother, she looked frail and was shaking worse than a leaf. A friend was at her side while nurses scurried around like rats. “Mommy, I was going to the spa”. She apologized to me. Her cheeks were puffy as hell. The violent shaking continued. Blankets upon blankets were piled upon her until the shaking finally subsided. Friends began to arrive as word left the church and went into homes.
When I felt comfortable leaving for the cafe, all I could think about was a nice cup of coffee. As the seat engulfed me, it was apparent that my father was having coffee with me. We sat there and enjoyed a meal together. Where else would he be but with his family? It was nice to see him. He escorted me back to my mother’s room where I remained until lunch.
My mother has a broken heart that will not heal any time soon. The sisterhood has gathered in numbers once again to stand at the side of their beloved Amy. All of them stand next to me as well. There is nothing like it on earth. The support that these women provide is unbelievable. Daddy’s departure has caused new issues to arise in my life; the biggest one being, my mother can no longer live alone. At age 37, this is new territory for me. My mother will not allow me to take control and help her and yet, she remains in her own way. The only thing that I can do is pray for my father to intercede while I gather information.
It has been about four days now since the verdict was announced. The reality that many had thought was of yesteryear became present day. The argument about the law, race relations, riots, and protesting all run wildly on the Sahara of America today. My exposure has been limited to the radio and Facebook which in truth is too much. The pain of the people is a great weight to feel.
As my mind wanders through the tragedy over and over again, my heart returns to the same place. At the center of this, there are two parents that brought this child into the world; that child is no longer here. There is a mother that is mourning the loss of her baby. There is a father that will never see his son again. Their pain is in the spotlight. They went from being unrecognizable to having their lives splashed all over the media.
I have heard about all the things that are being planned. Stevie Wonder refuses to perform in Florida which is significant because this is the same individual that fought with his talent to make the birthday of MLK a national holiday. Boycotts of the state by other groups are openly being discussed on Facebook. It looks as tourism is about to take a hit. Others yet plan to move away out of fear that their sons will meet the same tragic fate. One mother has removed all of the hoodies from her home. How does this permeate my humble existence? How do I feel?
My feeling is one of sadness. My feeling is one of regret. My feeling is that the spirit of the Civil Rights Era is about to explode. Then there is the question of what can I do? What is my role? For maybe the first time in my life, my role is very clear to me.
There are many people that are actively working to do something positive about this situation. They will need prayer. Aren’t you the same person that just posted that prayer also requires action on your part? Yes, I did. While I do not forsee myself participating in a protest, there are other ways that I can assist. Someone may need to relax their mind and escape for a while just to breathe. Harp music soothes all nerves. There are women that may want to talk about their fears for their own children in the wake of it all. I facilitate womens’ circles and would gladly offer to do a special ongoing series for this matter. It is now my honorable duty to make certain that I keep myself balanced so that when it is my turn to help, I will be ready.
Yes, here I am. Looking out of my window and thinking about my day. It will not be long before I petition Archangel Azrael to remain at Sabrina Fulton’s side. She must fight this battle while the memory of her son is fresh in her mind and heavy on her heart. Dear God, if I do nothing else today please let me ask you to hold her. No parent should ever have to bury her child.