Saw this on tv yesterday:

and. completely. lost. it.

*sigh*

Go call your parents if you can

*

I had a rather unsettling night last night. I know… that’s not news anymore. I went to sleep rather early after a dinner of Lasagne and Cornbread muffins (I know - it was a craving on the Mr’s side). But the food wasn’t settling right… so I laid down. And from 11PM to 6AM I was subject to dreams and experiences that left me unrested… confused… concerned.

I dreamt that because of our intimacy issues, Earl and I got a divorce. At this point in the dream it just seemed there was no remedy… there would never be a remedy and so we had to go our separate ways in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. So in the dream, I move back to my mom…. *sigh* my brother’s apartment. Which, in the dream, is now being lived in by him, my uncle & his wife (in my parent’s bedroom) and my aunt and her son (in the living room). It’s cluttered in the house, but not like it’s been in the past 3 years. Moreso, active living people clutter but the furniture was in good shape and where it belonged (except the dining room table). My aunt and her son were even using the sofa bed (which hasn’t been used? in YEARS). I got there in the evening so everyone was pretty much asleep. And I sat at the dinette table, where my mom used to sit and a voice, which I’ll assume was my own mind, my consciousness, spoke to me.

So now what? Where do you go from here? Strange question to ask… cause you don’t even remember who you were before all of this do you? There were things that YOU liked to do and places that YOU like to go. You had hopes and aspirations… and dreams. And you kept putting them aside for everyone else. You can’t even remember them anymore, can you? You can’t even remember who YOU were….

And I woke up from the dream and laid in bed really trying to remember… who I was… before “all this started” - before all the sicknesses. Before all the forced decisions. Before being married. What did I want out of life? What was I hoping to become? And why? Who was I? and how did I become who I am now? And I drew blanks. Every single one… blanks. It could very well be because it was 3 in the morning and I was too tired… but even now writing it down, I can’t recall clearly. And maybe I’ve put it so far in the recesses of my mind that I can’t reach it because I don’t know if it can happen. I drifted back to sleep and picked up where I left off.

The house was in a panic now. My uncle’s wife comes screaming out of the bedroom yelling that there’s a snake in the bedroom. Some how this snake, albeit small - known to all of us as poisonous come slithering out quickly and chases us into a corner of the living room. Someone came and killed it… not sure who it was. Felt like it may have been Earl but i don’t remember him being in the space (especially considering the divorce).

I announced that this was entirely too much craziness for me so I went and took up a room at the 4 Seasons in the city and laid there in a white room going over my lack of knowledge of who I was again. Still drawing blanks. I fell asleep in the silence of that room….

And woke up in the silence of my own. I just sat up in bed trying to pull together the thoughts in my head and realized, I have to get back to a place where I feel like… I’m grounded in myself. I KNOW who I am, and what I want and have made a solid decision about what to do with that information (whether to pursue or ignore - but based on ME deciding… not me pushing it aside to make anyone else happy).

I have made my mission starting 2009 to get to know Victoria again. Find out what she wants and see what’s happening in her world right now to stand in her way. She does now and always will deserve my full attention and I will be a captive audience.

She’s the most interesting person I’ll EVER know.

*

It’s common thought that among the children of Moms everywhere, they cannot even FATHOM what life would be like without their mother. “I think I’ll go crazy that day.” “I don’t know what I’ll do.” “I’ll want to kill myself.” “I don’t even want to think about it… ” Wrapping your mind around it is a whole other incident than actually dealing with it. And that’s the God’s honest truth.

In all fairness, I’ve been bracing myself for my mother’s death ever since I was a young girl. For as long as I’d known her, she’s been in some kind of pain. In my early years, it was constant back pain. Not debilitating… but constant. Then followed by knee pain in my double digit years. The both of them together made it so that in a 15 block walk, she’d have to stop 3 or 4 times to “catch her breath” but she was really trying to get the strength up to endure the pain for a few more blocks. Then both of them so severe that she had to quit one job of the two that she held. Then sciatica that forced back surgery that had her feeling better and almost like new… But she went back to work too soon… and undid the whole thing. Then diabetes. Then hypertension. Then the continuing obesity that got worse with every year. Then the cancer. Finally… the kidney failure. With that kind of history, you’d think that I’d be QUITE ready for her to have passed from the earth. But HOPE, man. Hope is a drug. And the fact that it springs eternal makes you a junkie for life. I would always sit there and hope… that she’d come home and start a weight regimen so that she could take the pressure off of her knees so that they wouldn’t hurt so much, so that maybe we could go to the mall together like all the other kids. I would hope that she’d take VITAMINS instead of all the prescription pills so that she could fortify her body with the stuff she needed to survive and not all the stuff they just prescribed her so they could keep making money. Even when she was in the hospitals and homes this past year, when she lost 120 lbs… HOPE took me over and I imagined her taking the reigns, beating EVERYTHING that was against her - kidneys, cancer… the whole kit and kaboodle… and get a new lease on life.

No such luck. The only hope answered is that perhaps she wouldn’t suffer very long. But 20+ years is a LOT of pain. And truly, it’s the only consolation to her being gone. I know now there isn’t an aching joint, a paining abdomen, a screaming back anywhere NEAR where she is now. For the first time since I’ve know her… she’s NOT in pain.

Unfortunately there has been a transference of that pain energy.

I’ve never been so sad. Felt that anything was so hard. Cried so often. Been so hopeLESS. To those who might be wondering what the worst part is… it’s that now that they’re gone… YOU HAVE TO KEEP GOING. In a world that you find shockingly empty and meaningless once they’re gone. Having to rationalize your urges to call and hear their voice, because that’s usually what you’d do to get through the day - with the reality that she’s really NOT here anymore and YOU are. To jolt up from dreams of her where she was herself - loving, sweet and perfect - to realize that it’s the ONLY place you’ll see her now.

As much as I’d like to hold her again… Just to feel her motherly embrace around me…. I will NEVER. EVER. AGAIN. And I? Have to get used to THAT reality. That’s the worst part of this.

Today makes 1 month that she’s been gone from this world. And Thursday would have been her 67th birthday. And next week will be my first Thanksgiving with ZERO parents… Christmas and New Year’s shortly there after.

I have to survive it all. And emerge on the other side…

Still without my mom.

*

“I remember when I went with momma to the washeteria
Remember there in school one day, I learned I was inferior”
- Erykah Badu

It has happened. The 44th President of the United States beginning January 20, 2009, will be a man who looks like me. A true African-American - born of an African man and a White American Woman. One of the most articulate, charismatic, intense, focused, genuine politicians I’ve ever seen. Whenever they show reels of him and his interaction with people, I hear Ozzie Davis’ voice in my head saying, “Did you ever talk to Brother Barack? Did you ever touch him, or have him smile at you? Did you ever really listen to him?” - taking my bit of creative license. Because that’s the power and leadership and love that he exudes. He really shakes your hand and interacts with you. He seems amazing. I hope to get to meet him one day.

I cried on the couch when they “projected” that he would be the next President of the USA. Because of SO MANY REASONS. Because they told me that we would NEVER see this day in our lifetime. Because I’ve spent a LIFETIME searching for role models beyond atheletes and rap stars. Because they DID tell me in school that Negroes were inferior… and I was sitting right there… so I fought all my life to be Better. Stronger. Faster. Smarter. Quicker. Prettier. Wittier. Fly-ER. Just so I could be considered on an even keel with those who get the spoils with less work. At 34 years old, I sat across from a woman who told me that I’m “so well spoken”… because she didn’t expect it from US. Just like Chris Rock said…

‘…you get racism at all levels,’ he goes on, straight-faced, explaining that he lives in a New Jersey neighborhood of $3 million houses. The only black people living there are himself, Mary J Blige, Jay-Z and Denzel Washington. ‘One of the greatest R&B singers of all time, one of the greatest rappers in the world, one of the finest actors in the world,’ Rock says. ‘The white guy who lives next door to me - he’s a dentist. He’s not even, like, the best dentist in the world, he’s not in the dentists’ Hall of Fame or anything. I had to host the fucking Oscars to get that house!’ His voice went so high it sounded in danger of breaking. ‘For him to be the dentist equivalent he would have had to invent teeth! Black man gotta fly to get the shit the white man can just walk to,’ he says, shaking his head.

I knew it would be an uphill battle just to reach the level of THEIR playing field.

All of this to say to non-Black America: You are going to see a lot of African-Americans and Caribbean-Americans and Black-Americans and Of-Colored-Skin-Americans prop up flags in their windows and on their yards. Maybe even rock a lapel pin. Some of us might actually look prouder now when the National Anthem is sung. Or even go so far as to say that for the “first time” in their lives, they’re Proud to be American. It’s not as a slight at all. Try not to look at the side where you feel they’re really saying that they’ve been ungrateful for America all the years leading up. Instead… try to see how the Obamas in the White house is a realization of a dream and an affirmation to us all over the nation… around the world… that The Dream never died. It was dormant, that’s for sure. But the Hope of doing more for ourselves, doing better for our family…. actually ACHIEVING the American Dream seems closer than it ever was because we watched one of our own do it RIGHT in front of us… IN our lifetime. It’s not just talk any more. We have the EVIDENCE of it being real and the PROOF of what we’ve hoped for.

It’s beyond a Dream… it’s becoming, for us, a REALITY.

Listen... the dream lives on

Thank you Barack. Thank you America.

*

I used to cringe at the sound of any of my phones - home, cell or other. Everytime it rang, I knew there was gloom waiting on the other end of it. I knew it would be a bad situation. Especially if it came from one of the family members. There was ALWAYS bad news then. Something completely heart breaking that I would have ABSOLUTLEY NO control over.

The fact of the matter is now… that there is NO WORSE NEWS… than hearing that my mother has passed on from this earth. So I answer my phone with no fear now. I sat in a meeting where they informed us that they let go members of our workforce and the remaining ones would get a 3% pay cut in addition to more expectations as far as work load and expectations. I’ve had to work 2 days non stop from 11 AM - 3 AM to meet a goal at work. *shrugs*

No worse news.

I watched the 30 minute message that Barack gave 2 nights ago on my computer this morning at work (cause I was AT work when he delivered it originally). And I cried. At my desk. He talked about his mom, who died of cancer. And how lonely a process that was for her. And how she never got to meet her grandchildren. And how instead of spending her final days focusing on getting better, she poured over insurance forms from one employer to the next because everyone was pointing fingers at each other about who should pay for her well being. And suddenly, Mr. Barack Obama was truly right with me… where I’d been for the last 10 months. It was all I could do not to sob audibly so as to alert my co workers. But I cried. Good and hard. Because… he really gets it. Sad. Typing this, I get teary eyed because of the way he connected with ME on that message. And I’m in AWE, and AMAZED and SO VERY HOPEFUL. More hopeful than I’ve been in a REALLY LONG TIME about what being an American can mean to me again… And I watched Charles meet Barack. And his elder words of wisdom covered me and reminded me of my mom, my dad and my grandmother. And when he lamented about not being here in 4 or 5 years… his mortality was so real. But his HOPE for the future was STRONGER

McCain winning on Tuesday.

Yeah… that’s actually REALLY bad news…

http://www.voteforchange.com

*

Every night I go to sleep.

Every SINGLE NIGHT when I go to sleep.

No matter what I was doing the day before.

I dream about burying my mom.

It’s a different dream every time. One night Barack Obama came to pay his respects. One night I buried her then had a living funeral for my aunt. One night I waited at her crypt for them to seal it with the inscription (which I have to go check on today). Last night, I was explaining to someone what lengths we went through to bury her… but somehow she was in the room in the coffin. And my eyes played tricks on me again. I thought I saw her arms flail up (as if she was deep in thought and couldn’t come to a good conclusion). I dismissed that until I saw her turn over. So I rushed to her and said… “You’re AWAKE… YOU’RE ALIVE.” She looked at me and something wasn’t altogether right. One eye was off focus (wandering) a touch and her hair was like it was in the hospital; in a bun on top of her head. She mumbled something to me about not letting anyone know that I saw her that way, and she turned over and went to sleep. And woke up.

Every night. I bury my mom.

I’m not sure how I’ll stay sane this way.

I really miss her. More than I’ve missed anyone.

*

They used a crank to lower her deeper into the coffin. It was slow and smooth - not jarring. Not disturbing. They covered her over in petal soft comforter looking material. And for a moment, my eyes tricked me in to believing that she looked… relieved; rested; protected like a little child freshly tucked in by her mom and dad. They shut the lid over her visage and screwed the coffin closed. Then the funeral director turned around and said to me and my family.

“The coffin is now closed and will NOT be reopened.”

On Saturday, October 11th, 2008 at 3:15 PM, the numbers all went backwards on the monitor and let us on the earth know that my mother’s spirit had made it’s final journey from this life. We’d all been watching the monitors since 8:00 AM like a warped ticker… an hour after the doctors called and told me that if I waited until visiting hours, we may be too late. It was all so sudden. She was FINE on Thursday. Then not so fine at all on Friday. Fresh from dialysis, she came back and was worst than I’d ever seen her. Completely dilapidated. Confused. Exhausted. I asked her what year it was. She said 1941. I said… “No mommy… Not the year you were born… what year is it now?” She hesitated. After much poking and prodding for veins for an IV and hospital tv show style doctors running down the hall… they moved her to ICU. Once they had her settled in at ICU, I walked into the room alone. And she was resting. Deeply. Peacefully. I called her name. “Mommy?” She opened her eyes and focused in on me. “You’re still here, petite cocotte?” she inquired through the oxygen mask. “Yes, mommy,” I responded slowly and deliberately so she could understand, “We wanted to make sure that you’d be okay before we left. But we’ll stay if you want us to. Would you like us to stay with you?” “Yes, please, stay with me.” She responded w/o issue. Then drifted into sleep again. Just as deep as if she’d never woken up. I stood still in the same place watching her rest. Taking in her features. Saying a silent prayer. 5 minutes later, her eyes popped open and she focused in on me again. “Baby? You’re still here???” this time more shocked than last. “Yes, mommy. You asked me to stay with you. So I’m right here.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean like that,” she explained carefully. She took my hand. “I mean… go out there. Live your life. Go be with your husband. Make babies. Work hard and be a good employee. Have fun. And every now and again… come by and visit me. That’s all… isn’t that what you do now?” I nodded. “Good,” she confirmed, “Keep doing that. Go home. Get some rest, petite cocotte.” She blew a kiss through the oxygen mask and I kissed her forehead and went home.

I jolted awake at 7 AM and immediately called ICU… they transferred me 3 times, each transfer preceded by “Did the doctor talk with you yet?” - I knew that was a bad sign already. They had to intubate her the night before. She got that bad. We raced and broke laws all the way up to the hospital. There she was, eyes half open, breathing tube yanking down one side of her mouth; her body unnaturally rising and falling with the insistence of the respirator. We called her name and held her hands. She responded by squeezing and subsequently jerking her arms. She heard us. We got the priest in ASAP. He gave her last rites. After which, she was calm. No more jerking. Hours went by before she left. Giving all 15 of us an opportunity to whisper our loving thoughts and well wishes in her ear. I called Nininne, and put the phone up to mom’s ear so she could hear her words to her. And all our gazes rocked back and forth between her visage and the monitor. We instantly became experts in interpreting the numbers for heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen count. And we watched them… slowly slide backwards all day. Pray that maybe… just maybe… they might reverse their descent.

At 3:14, the numbers spiraled downwards. Everyone rushed to the bed and the list of loving nicknames came out. “Dendon!!!” “Tanti Denise!!” “Mommy!!” “Mammi Ti Den!” As if calling her name would have stopped her ascension. The machine registered all zeros and printed out a flatlined ticker. That was it. My mommy was gone.

Now, there is a much traveled middle passage between my regular every day thoughts and that end results. Lemme call mom… oh… wait…. *insert remembrance of the last week* She’s really gone… isn’t she…. And each time is just as painful as the last. I’ve gained entry into a fraternity of motherless children that I NEVER EVER wanted… and neither did they. But so far - we all speak a common language of loss and sadness and remembrance. Everyone has to go through it for the most part. It’s truly a matter of time.

No matter what your relationship - call your mom. Tell her what and how you feel. If you’re so lucky - go hug her and take in through all senses what that is. What she smells like. How her skin feels and how WARM it is. The real LOVE that she’s expressing to her baby child. And hold that memory for as long as you can.

Li’l mommy? I’ll miss you always. You were the very best mommy anyone could have asked for. Thank you for being mine.

*

Sometimes you hear a line in a song or a movie and although the line doesn’t have total and outward logic or sense like a simple sentence, (ie - I walked the dog and then came home) you hear it and in all it’s gibberish… made PERFECT sense to you. It was a feeling you’d been trying to put to words… but somehow, the english language eluded piecing that emotion together. And maybe you didn’t know any other languages that might seem fit.

The Matrix (the only movie that I will acknowledge - the FIRST ONE) had a line in it like that… when Morpheus talks about the splinter in your mind…

I know *exactly* what you mean. Let me tell you why you’re here. You’re here because you know something. What you know you can’t explain, but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.

I was in the movie theatre when I heard this line. And w/o the influence of ANYTHING… I felt immediately that something had been explained or described that I felt infinitely since my first cohesive thought. I almost cried sitting there in that theatre that I wasn’t alone to feel that way. Yet and still, you read it and it doesn’t make a whole lotta literal sense, but your HEART hears, feels and recognizes it.

One other such line is from my favorite, not well known remix of Jill Scott’s Love Rain. It’s really not a “remix” at all. It’s the same exact song, but instead of the part where she sings towards the end, she invites Mos Def to rhyme a piece of wonderfulness that made me fall in love with his lyrical ability INSTANTANEOUSLY. The line that grabbed me and shook me was…

You are the beautiful distress of mathematics.

And immediately… exclaimed YES!!! YES - I KNOW THAT feeling!!! I described it for someone tonight and he said “are you writing this down?” so I thought I’d blog it before I forgot. My interpratation of the line is:

you’ve got the theory down… and the practice to go with it…
the exercise of working out the equation is exciting because you’re sure you paid attention…
you’re so proud that you came out with an answer on the other end… just to realize it’s wrong…

because you didn’t include a negative somewhere… or you forgot to carry over a 1…
and you have to start all over again

*sigh* So much on my mind… I just can’t recline…

*

One thing people never tell you as you age and mature - along with the wealth of wisdom they’re usually willing to impart with you is that reaction, that basic instinctual response to distress or hurt NEVER. EVER. LEAVES YOU. Almost 34 years old, I experienced a level of emotional pain that regressed me to almost saying that phrase with a sob yesterday. Of course you don’t actually say the words but the general sentiment / desire is there. The want to run to her and have her envelope you in her arms, stroke your head and ears and allow you to cry or be scared or feel defeated for just long enough until she says the words that ONLY FEEL GOOD WHEN SHE SAYS THEM::

It’s ok baby. Everything will be alright.

Think of how many other people you’ve heard say that to you in times of crisis. Honestly…. Did you ever believe any of them as much as you did your mom?

There was a protection in those words that made you KNOW you’d be alright. That somehow, she might help you. Protect you. Advocate for you and then truly…. All would end up being righted. And at the very least, she would be that shore you could return to when the waters of life proved to be too choppy. No matter how old - there with a warm touch, a soft gentle word and maybe even your favorite meal or dessert to comfort further.

It’s truly adulthood when you realize that you can’t have your mommy and you MUST figure it out on your own. It’s the emotional equivalent of standing in the middle of a desert alone and seeing the sandstorm whipping around on the horizon.

*

aka… Drop Everything!

We’ve heard the statement so many times before. “Drop EVERYTHING” - sometimes in commercials for a really good sale. Sometimes from the lips of friends who did it to get to some exclusive event. Sometimes from people who’ve gone through life’s changes and needed to focus on one thing - school, work, a new baby, a new lover… When someone comes to you and says

DROP EVERYTHING!!

What is your everything? What’s expendable? What would you put on the back burner in lieu of the urgent thing that has come across your path? What’s reasonable to ignore and what would still demand your attention despite your urgency? Your job? Your friends? Your marriage? Your children? Your bills? Your organizational responsibilities? What is “everything” to you that something else can usurp?

Recently, I’ve been examining what different folks view as being expendable in OTHER people’s lives. For instance… in a candid conversation with my Godmother, my mom actually admitted that she thought one of us (my brother or myself) would quit our jobs and come be with her 24/7 while she’s in the nursing facility. Although she later rescinded that as being irrational… the thought crossed her mind that our everything else was less important than her needs. She was even convinced that if my dad was still alive… he might have dropped his everything to be with her. In this instance, I’m grateful that he passed before her so that she would not have to be proven wrong. Of that? I’m positive.

It’s an important question to ask yourself. What in your life can take a back seat should something “more important” come up. I put that in quotes because urgency and importance are fleeting. One day important… next day… back of mind.

My EVERYTHING is exempt of my immediate family, my marriage and my job. I need them all. One to pay for bills and sustain what little lifestyle I have… and the others… well… because I love him and need him and made a promise to him. And I do so try to be a woman of my word. And my family… well.. to me? that’s’ a given. No replacing them. Sadly enough given the events of the last few weeks… I realize that I’m NOT exempt from his everything and could be indeed… expendable.

The first time I heard that word was at a job training. They explained to us that the way to NOT get fired… is to make yourself invaluable. Do something for the company that they feel could not be duplicated by someone else. That way? They have to keep you indefinitely.

I am desperately looking for that trait…

*