I wrote this poem for my mother a few weeks ago. She passed away on January 9, 2020, and I have written many words with her in mind. However, to celebrate Mother’s Day, I wanted to share the words I wrote in her honor that did not come from a place of sadness. I’m a mother myself, so I want to have more smiles than tears today. Also, for your enjoyment, I’m sharing a song by Lenny Kravitz called Thinking of You that he wrote in honor of his mother.
Seen and unseen connections. Who sees you when you’re not looking? I like to believe that I have my own angels, one of them being my mother, who have my back and keep me away from devastation. I have made it to page 55 so far and the main character, Eddie, has died and meet the first person out of the five people mentioned in the title in Heaven. It seems to me that the author, Mitch Albom, is trying to illustrate how connected we all really are without realizing it. He shows us how our actions may affect someone else, maybe even a stranger, and how we may never know it until it is our turn to transition to the other side.
I think most people can agree that 2020 has been interesting, to say the least. In my case, I had my fair share of highs and actually prospered where many people struggled in the midst of all the mess, but I have also suffered great loss.
Just before the pandemic I lost my mother to heart failure. A few months after she passed away I lost an uncle, her baby brother, suddenly. As of this writing, just a little over a month ago I lost another Uncle, the last of my mother’s living siblings on her maternal side and one whom I cared about dearly, to cancer.
Through all of that, if you’ve skimmed one of my more recent posts on the blog or Instagram, you’ll know that I spent some time as an over the road expediter. During those long drives cross-country I was able to catch up on some reading via audiobooks. One author in particular I had started reading was Mitch Albom. I had heard of him quite some time ago and had started reading his most well-known book, Tuesdays With Morrie, but never finished it until I listened to it while I was on the road. That led me to listening to another book of his called The First Phone Call From Heaven.
As I sit here now contemplative and curious of all things spiritual, I have another book of his called The Five People You Meet in Heaven. I’m not new to spirituality. My mother would’ve told anyone that I was gifted, chosen, or blessed with some gift. I’ve taken the route of candles and tarot cards but I’m very familiar with the Baptist church and non-denominational Christianity. I try to let god tell me who it really is rather than people. Still, I certainly believe there is an afterlife and now I have several angels I can call by name.
The books by Albom that I have read so far all deal with living, dying, grief, and love in some way. I started Tuesdays with Morrie long before my mother passed send only recently finished it. There were many lessons in that book about love and loving while you have the opportunity. I’m interested to see how many more ways Albom can express that sentiment. I haven’t written a book review in quite some time, but I’m looking forward to writing this one. I’m feeling like writing something, anything, is what needs to happen for me right now.
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I am understanding more and more why many people treat plants like children. This Peace Lily that I inherited from my uncle who recently passed away has been receiving almost as much attention as my actual child.
There’s something very satisfying and therapeutic about nurturing a plant and watching it grow. I just got back home after being away for a few days and came to find that it was very sad and wilted. With some water and a little extra sunlight it has perked right back up and I’m happy. ☺️ Maybe I’ll get another live plant eventually.
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Where have I been? Where am I now? Those are very good, potentially philosophical, questions.I have been away from my blogs for quite some time, but I have still been writing. As of the writing of this little personal essay, I was touring Paisley Park yesterday and I am leaving my hair behind in a hotel trash can outside of Minneapolis after I decided on a spur of the moment big chop.
My job as an expediter literally takes me across the lower 48 states of the USA and most mornings when I awake I have no clue where I will be by the end of the day. It is a fairly decent-paying job that has allowed me the opportunity to see many landmarks and beautiful scenery, but it comes with its fair share of stress and I lose the ability to be the hands-on mother that I was before I started driving. However, my daughter is part of my reason for working this position.
I’m looking towards more entrepreneurial endeavors in the near future. This post is the first I’ve been able to bring myself to write in months. I haven’t been able to commit myself to pulling out my laptop and putting in the work of updating my blogs. There was just no room in my head. Today there is. I don’t know if it is courtesy of the wellness planner I bought for myself, the budget planner, the new vehicle I just purchased for myself, the tour of Prince’s house or the fact that I took a pair of scissors to my hair, but I feel good. I have been writing a few poems and thoughts in both my digital and physical notebooks, but I think I’m finally in the mood and mindset to begin posting them again. I think that’s where I am. I’m in a place that feels good. The good place.
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Today I stood still for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. It was a long 8 minutes and 46 seconds. I committed to the 8 minutes and 46 seconds in honor of a man that I did not know. I did it in honor of many men and women whom I did not know, but who have perished in similar ways. During those 8 minutes and 46 seconds I thought about how terrifying it must be to spend at least half of that time pleading for the most basic necessity and seemingly human right, the ability to breathe.
A few days ago, I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t because someone had a knee on my neck, but it was because I was in a group discussion about someone else having a knee on their neck, which led to the discussion of several men and women, specifically black men and women, black like me, who have died at the hands of the very people who are supposed to protect. It has been happening for years.
Many of us thought that 2020 would be much better than it has been so far. Coronavirus, murder hornets, threats of war had us all rethinking that. Now the blatant reminders of the undying racism in this country are here to further rub salt in the wounds that the other traumas have left. It has got to get better.
We can pretend to be blind to the fact that in 2020 racism still exists, but I’d only be lying to myself if I did that because I have experienced it firsthand on numerous occasions. It has got to get better.
Police brutality, even if one were to factor out race, is a huge problem that needs to be fixed. A lot of people have died at the hands of police when death wasn’t necessary. The 8 minutes and 46 seconds that an officer had his knee on the neck of a man lying face down on the ground with his hands handcuffed behind his back was more than excessive. It has got to get better. There are too many names to name, however I will name one of the men who have been the topic of many conversations recently, Mr. George Floyd. My heart aches for you and your family.