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Lost
Today marks one month since you crossed over, and I still can’t believe you’re really gone. You were supposed to become the world’s oldest living cat, but your little body had other plans, boo. You really did us dirty with your lil’ funky ass. The house still feels different without you, but I believe you…
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A Requiem for Soul Survivors
The term soul survivor is often used to describe the last person left alive after a catastrophic event. But there is another kind of soul survivor—one rarely acknowledged. They are the people who become the last living member of their childhood family. The final witness to the laughter, the arguments, the holidays, the whispered secrets,…
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Learning to Let Go My Old Man🐈⬛🐈⬛🐈⬛😢😢😢🌺🌺🌺
Written with tears running down my face. I took my cat to the vet yesterday and learned that he has liver disease. The vet was a kind man who told me that he doesn’t know how much time Diddy has left. It could be months. It could be longer. Or it could be less. There…
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A Poem for Malcolm
There are some men history remembers.And then there are men history survives. Malcolm X was both. Beautiful in the way fire is beautiful.Dangerous to touch.Impossible not to stare at. That man walked through Americalike a sharpened blade wrapped in a dark wool coat,all cheekbones, discipline, and fury.A face carved from grief and revelation.A mind so…
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Grief Never Ends
Lord, I dreamed about my brother Larry this morning. He was alive. Healthy. Walking around like death had made some kind of mistake. And in the dream, I was completely stunned because my mind kept saying, “But you’re supposed to be dead.” Yet there he was, breathing, smiling, existing like he had simply stepped out…
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Losing My Brother: A Soliloquy
November — He was missing. Missing is a strange word. It sounds temporary. Like misplaced keys. Like a sock behind the dryer. It suggests retrieval. Resolution. But this was different. Received a call telling me that he was missing. Sending my son to the police station to file a missing person report. Asking friends on…
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Surviving My Brothers
Grief keeps its own calendar. February comes in like a quiet thief, soft-footed and merciless, carrying dates that glow like coals. My brother Randy — gone on his birthday February 7th, just thirty-four, the candles never meant to be memorial lights. Four days earlier I was in a hospital bed with a broken leg, my…
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Sole Survivor
Six years next month. Six quiet, thunderous years of carrying a title no one applies for. A sole survivor is the last remaining member of their immediate family—the final branch on a once-leafy tree. My mother gave birth to three children. I am the only one left. No siblings to call and say, “Do you…
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When Blood Recognizes Itself
Lately, I’ve been seeing the faces of my ancestors in strangers. A jawline in the grocery store line. A pair of eyes on the bus that feel like déjà vu with a pulse. A woman laughing two tables over, her mouth moving exactly like my mother’s used to when joy caught her off guard. It’s…
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I Wonder
As the season changes from fall to winter, I’m sitting here thinking as usual and listening to music. As the song ‘That Girl’ by Stevie Wonder is playing, and I’m thinking about my Aunt Mary who died the same year when this song was released. And my other matriarchs. I wonder if they are proud…
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The Potty Mouth Granny 