​Hey guys. I’m back. I know, I go away for a few years now you can’t shut me up. 😊 If that doesn’t make sense, go ahead and scroll down to see my post from last month. Ok, let me stop stalling and get to the reason for my visit. Today marks 1 year since my girl got her wings. More specifically it’s been 52 Mondays of not being able to talk to or at least check on Madea. Most people in my world know that my Mondays belonged to her. She caught me up on all the church and family gossip and I would tell her about what made me laugh or irritated me with the folks in my world. Every week no matter what was going on in my life I knew for at least 30 minutes I was going to laugh with my girl. She was going to say something crazy like ‘you can’t tell her nothing, that girl tells every fart’. Madea was hilarious! In some of my darkest times Mondays were what I looked forward to the most. For the first few months after she passed I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone right after work. It was still her time. Honestly, some Mondays I just cry because can’t call her. Have I mentioned grief really sucks? Man… Especially when I feel like I’m starting the process for the millionth time.
 
You would think I’d have this grief thing down by now or at least have the secret to navigating it with a little more ease. Nope, not this lady, still a wreck over here. I will say I’ve learned not to fight what I’m feeling. If I feel like crying, crafting or just being silent; I do that.  As a matter of fact I did a little of all these things today. It is what it is. The last couple of days have been rough. Yesterday driving home I was acutely aware it marked the 52nd Monday without Madea and today being the year anniversary of her death has kicked my butt real good. I guess it should be noted that I’m not the person who selfishly wants everyone to live forever. I am grateful she lived to be 95 and I understood when she told me she was tired. Another lesson I’ve learned on this journey is two things can be true; I am happy she’s at rest and I miss her terribly. Mondays with Madea will always be my favorite memories and I’ll always hold that space for her.
 
I want to thank the people who sent kind messages the last couple of days. I appreciate you more than words can express. Now, I could go on forever about my girl but it’s starting to storm outside. If you’re laughing you know this is ending because Madea did NOT play about storms. So, as I’ve done since I was a child, I’m about to shut it down and go to sleep.  Thanks for stopping by.

It’s been a minute. Thanks for stopping by to hear my heart. Just so you know, I’ve started and stopped writing more times than I’d like to admit. Like life tends to be, the last year has been a rollercoaster of emotions. The last 10 months have been tough! Just when I thought I had finally figured out how to manage life and loss my favorite girl, my great-grandmother (Madea) passed away April 2022. Seven months later I lost 2 aunts In November within weeks of each other. That loss was particularly hard because each of my aunts helped me so much when I was learning how to navigate the loss of Kelinda. They acknowledged my pain and never made me feel like my grief was too much.

There are many days I struggle to find joy, yet alone gratitude in much of anything. It is overwhelming when I find myself being consumed with the constant ebb and flow of the grief cycle. Before you start to worry, I assure you I’m ok. Let me get to the point. Recently, I’ve been making a conscious effort to focus on the moments and things I am grateful for in general and with the loved ones I am missing. Today marks 13 years since my daddy passed. Sure, I cried a little because I miss him so much BUT I also thought about how our last conversation was filled with laughter and jokes. We hung up with an ‘I love you’ and promise to talk again that week because he was walking into a meeting. That led me to a thousand more moments I am grateful I had with him. At this point I’m sure you’re wondering when I’m going to get to this 29 thing. Right? Here it goes.

When Madea was transitioning I had the opportunity to tell her thank you for everything and how grateful I was for every minute I had with her. It was around that time ‘29’ kept popping in my head. I really thought I was losing it until I realized the significance. I was 29 years old when daddy died, and I was 29 weeks pregnant when Kelinda died. Now this discovery had the potential to send me spiraling back to the darkest times in my life. Instead, it somehow gave me peace I can’t explain.

I started to remember sitting on the front pew at daddy’s service, shattered but still thanking God for every second I had with him. I thought about how hard he laughed just the year prior when I told him about the tattoo I’d gotten on my birthday. I started laughing when I thought about him always telling me I didn’t need a man as long as was around (he used more colorful language, but I’ll keep it PG). Those thoughts and so many more got me through the first year. Then BAM! A year and seven months later I lose my sweet angel girl Kelinda at 29 weeks. I’ve written about that loss many times. Check previous posts 😊 I will say that loss was and will always be the hardest to fully accept. Even in that I have found so much to be grateful for in our time together.

​Alrighty folks, time to wrap this one up. One, I don’t want to be in a puddle of tears and two, real life calls. I have work in the morning. My hope is that in reading this you understand this post isn’t about sadness or even the number 29. It’s about gratitude. Trust me, I know how hard it is to find anything to be grateful for when you’re at your wits end. I challenge you to find just 1 thing you’re grateful for in the midst of it all and I promise it will help. Even if it’s just in that moment.  Take care and I’ll do my best to get back before years go by.   

Three years ago I wrote a blog titled "Is it Morning Yet" where I talked about how much this verse puzzled me. Actually, it angered me. It is well known to my close friends how much I hated when someone quoted this verse. I couldn’t understand how all the hurt, anger and pain was just going to disappear one magical morning. At one point if I thought someone was going to tell me about that wonderful morning I’d cut them off before they could finish. I should probably take this time to apologize to the wonderful friends who took brutal verbal assaults for even trying. J For years I waited for the day I’d wake up with this euphoric joy.  Everyone talked about it so much I just knew it had to be coming. Well, that one magical day never came but in this last year I’ve learned joy wasn’t meant to come in one way or even just for one day. Joy for me has come in several forms and over many days. It is FINALLY ‘morning’.
 
Last year I didn't do a lot of blogging because I was broken. This year I didn't do any blogging because I was LIVING! After spending the majority of 2016 in a deep depression I started 2017 with an energy I hadn’t felt in years. This year I made it my business to live my life instead of letting it consume me. I laughed far more than I cried. I let go of all the things and people that were not making life better. It wasn't easy but it wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be either. I spent less time in the angel garden and more time being present for the here and now. I think of Kelinda every single day but have found sharing what I’ve learned through this experience honors her more than any gift I leave in the garden. You can't make up for lost time no matter how hard you try, you can only take it one day at a time and that has been my goal for 2017.
 
This year wasn't without challenges but I handled them differently. When the weight of the world knocked me down my strength came in getting back up and pushing forward. I am a walking miracle. I told you last year God held me together and I am amazed at how far he’s brought me this year. Earlier this evening while talking to a friend he asked if I felt like I was getting better. That has always been a difficult question for me because I struggle with the idea of better. For so long I equated me being better with being ok with Kelinda’s death. Over time I’ve realized they are not the same. So…to answer you my friend: Yes, I’m getting better. Going into 2018 my goal is to continue getting better. For anyone reading this that can’t see better yet, trust me when I tell you it’s coming. Just hold on for your morning.

This is the first verse to my favorite song of the moment. The first time I heard it all I could do was cry. It summed up the last 6 years of my life. Through losing my daddy one year and my child the next God held me together. Looking back over these last few years I am filled with so many emotions. Through every tear, every sleepless night, every struggle and every mind blowing disappointment, he was there. I'm facing challenges at this moment most don’t have a clue about but God continues to hold me together. On the last day of this year I'm writing to encourage myself and hoping someone reading this will gain something as well.

This year I didn't write as much as I have in the past not because I didn’t have anything to say but because my spirit was so broken. I just couldn't find the words to articulate everything I was feeling. Disappointment has been a huge challenge for me this year. I’ve always been a person who has loved with everything in me and expected it to be reciprocated. In my mind I know that’s not realistic because we are all different and show love in different ways but that hasn’t stopped me from getting my feelings hurt. I’ve had to face the reality some people just aren’t meant to be a part of my life anymore. Relationships I thought would last forever have ended, people I’ve valued have made me question my worth as a person by their behavior, the world in general seems to be turning upside down and it’s been a bit much for me. 

I am almost positive I’ve spent over half the year in tears for one reason or another. I wrote about my grief a few months ago and the hard time I was having with it. What I didn’t write about was the gut wrenching mental and physical pain I was feeling. After Kelinda died I was prescribed pain medication and sleeping pills. I didn’t take many of the pain pills and never took the sleeping pills for fear I’d take them all. For years I kept those pills by my bed, stared at them every night contemplating ending the pain forever. At some point they went from being my out to being my encouragement. Every night I didn't take the pills made me feel a little stronger and like I could go on. When I reached the point where I threw them away I felt like I'd gotten through the worse. Then this year happened. The pain was so consuming I found myself wishing for that bag of pills.

Now if you’re reading this and wondering ‘where in the world is the encouragement?’, here it is. After my last blog about letting go I attended the annual walk to remember. I anticipated the tears and sadness but I what I didn’t anticipate was rediscovering the love God has for me. There was a statue unveiled this year of Jesus holding a baby in one arm and a crying mother’s hand in his other. Seeing that made things clearer for me. All along God has been holding me. For 5 years I would not go to church because I just couldn’t stand to hear about a loving and merciful God who allowed my father and child to die back to back. That day I decided I was going to church. Not only did I go to church, I joined one a month later. Each week I am reminded that life is tough and I will face challenges BUT God is still holding me together. By no means has life all of a sudden become perfect for me. My heart hurts at this very moment but I know I will be alright. A dear friend called me the poster child for resilience the other day. I think he’s right. :) 
​
Happy New Year!

​DISCLAIMER: I am having a rough time right now but I have no plans to harm myself or anyone else for that matter. So for those of you reading this who have my phone number and/or address take a deep breath, say a prayer and know I’ll be ok.  :-)

Last year marked 5 years of daddy’s passing and I had this unexplained amount of peace. I was sad but I was okay. This year makes five years since Kelinda passed and it’s a different beast. I’ve been crying since the 15th because I woke up remembering it was that day 5 years ago I heard her heart beat for the last time. (How insane is it that I remember the day?) As I type this I am fighting with everything in me to ward off the looming depression I feel. If I can be transparent, I'm losing the fight at this moment. I feel like I’ve gone back to the beginning where I took care of my necessities, said and did the things people expected of me and fell apart when no one was paying attention. Recently a friend told me they could see I was dealing with this better than I was a few years ago. For the most part that’s true. However, what that friend didn’t know is I had been crying right before they called but because I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable I agreed and went on to help them with an issue they were having. If you’re reading this my friend don’t feel bad. We’re all dealing with something and you had no way of knowing.

Alright, so as I’ve mentioned this has been one of the hardest times for me in a long while. There have been lots of tears and sleepless nights. I’ve had many thoughts and I felt like sharing a few. Each year I give myself a goal in dealing with my grief. The first year was all about survival. I prayed, screamed, broke things and most days I was so broken all I could do was cry but I made it through. Last year my focus was on maintaining what I’d gained in this process. I didn’t hit the lottery but it sure felt like it with the peace I’d found in grieving daddy and the happiness in the small things most people take for granted. This year the goal has been letting go. When I say letting go I’m not talking about the sadness, the pain or the hurt. Clearly those things are still very much at the forefront. For me it’s been more about letting go of ideas and expectations. 

In the beginning I expected the cliché statements people make when death occurs. I even expected people to be silent because they didn’t know what to say at all. What I didn’t expect was the harshness of some people. My favorite has been when people tell me how lucky I am not to have any children or say ‘wait until you have a child’. I’ve lost count of the folks who’ve told me they don’t consider me a mother because she died. Some have said those exact words and others have shown me. It used to really bother me when Mother’s Day came around and maybe 2 people would send a text or drop off a card. Things like that would send me into a rage or deep depression but I had to let it go. I let go of expecting people to care, be kind or even try to understand how much pain their actions and words caused. That turned out to be the best thing. So much so that when Mother’s Day came around this year I wasn’t expecting anything from anyone and it turned out to be the best one yet. Letting go of expectations was a cakewalk compared to some of the ideas I had to let go. 

A major hurdle was letting go of my guilt. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the last few years dissecting every detail of my pregnancy, especially the last month. For so long I felt like I failed Kelinda. My doctor confirmed many times there was nothing I could do to prevent her death but I needed something/someone to blame and believed as her mother I had the biggest responsibility and failed.  Knowing I did everything humanly possible to keep my daughter healthy and safe has helped me release the guilt. Although times like these tend to make me doubt myself all over again.

The biggest thought I had to let go of was the idea that being in a relationship with her father would make this experience more tolerable. He left when I was six months pregnant and never returned. Yet I was convinced if we got back together it would make things better or at the very least easier for me. I felt like he was the only one who understood my pain, I thought we could help each other and maybe even have another child. I held on to this idea for about 3 ½ years and did everything in my power to make it happen. The truth is the pain we were experiencing individually was so different we were never going to be able to help each other heal in a healthy way. When I let go of this idea it became clear that a relationship with him wasn’t going to change our reality. Letting go has allowed me to move forward and genuinely be happy for him as he has done the same. 

Here I am a few days away from October 1, the day that begins one of the hardest times for me. It happens to be the day of the walk to remember this year.  I’m actually kind of glad because I will start the month surrounded by other parents who are missing their child just like me. My tears won’t make them uncomfortable, my grief won’t be strange and the only thing that matters is I’m Kelinda’s mom. 5 years down, a lifetime to go.

Holidays suck! Now that I've gotten that out of my system, let's chat. All jokes aside holidays are extremely tough for me. I find myself retreating because I don't want to be a 'downer' for others and quite honestly I don't want to participate in family gatherings, mine or anyone else's because it generally makes me feel worse. There's nothing sadder than pasting on a smile when all you want to do is cry. Worse is being in a house full of people with children (or without) and not being able to think about anything but what you are missing out on with your child. It's overwhelming and difficult to articulate, especially to people who think you should be over it. The last few years I've spent the holidays alone doing whatever allows me to feel what I feel and gives me peace. My goal in 2015 was to maintain. I needed to maintain my peace, my sanity (often questioned), my joy (may not be a lot, but I have some) and most importantly a grateful heart.

I've written a lot about my sadness, anger and sometimes even my joy. This past year I truly learned to be grateful for every emotion because it means I'm still here. It's no secret that in the last 4 years there have been many days/nights I wished to not be here, it was too hard living without the biggest part of me. It's still hard, but I've learned to find joy in the smallest of things and it helps. I recently read an article by a mom that said "Because I know deep sorrow, I also know unspeakable joy". The joy I find in the simplest things is amazing. Filling my gas tank for $20 or less, coloring, doing puzzles, laughing with people I love about noting in particular and watching cheesy movies/TV shows gives me a joy I can't explain. Coming from a space where I didn't want to be happy and thought I'd never feel any type of joy small or otherwise I am grateful. Being grateful for the small things makes me even more grateful for the larger hurdles. 

​About 9 weeks ago I had a myomectomy to remove multiple fibroids (8 to be exact, affectionately known as Sid & friends). In the months leading up to the surgery I was so terrified of the possible outcomes. My biggest fear was not being able to have more children and that caused many sleepless nights. Not to mention the procedure itself. It's unreal to discuss having a tube placed down your throat while you are completely unconscious, having to assign medical responsibility, paying large co-payments and all the other stuff that comes with a major surgery. I am happy to report the surgery was successful and I can still have children. The recovery has been frustrating at times, long and painful. For a month and a half I couldn't do anything except go from my bed to the couch. The pain I felt doing everyday things made me want to cry. Recovery has been slow but each day gets better and for that I am grateful.

So, as I begin 2016 not knowing what life has in store I will keep a grateful heart. I will have good days and surely some bad ones too. I will miss my daughter and I will celebrate her life. I will laugh, I will cry, I will get angry and get over it too. All of these things may happen in a weeks time or even a day :). Through it all I will be grateful because better awaits.  Happy New Year!

​If you're still reading, you're awesome. I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who helped me during my recovery. I won't name people because their generosity wasn't for show, but I have to say 'thank you'. 

The first person is my mother, she came the night before my surgery, stayed in the hospital until I got out AND made sure I did absolutely nothing for the first two weeks after the surgery. She ran out of her medication but did not go home until I went to my first follow up appointment.

I have to thank my little sister and my sweet niece. They were with me from the time I checked in until I was brought to my room after the surgery. The last thing I remember going into surgery was my niece waving at me and she's the first voice I heard when they brought me to my room "There's my TT Kera!". My niece kept me calm before my surgery and definitely kept me smiling afterwards. Thanks sister for braving the grocery store the night before Thanksgiving to make sure I could complete my dinner.

The friends that showed up, I can't thank you enough. Thank you to the friend who did all of my grocery shopping and wouldn't let me reimburse them. Not only did you do my shopping, but you had dinner with me once a week. I couldn't go anywhere and you took the time after a long day to keep me company for a little while. It meant the world to me.

To the one who made sure I had whatever I wanted to eat, thank you. When I had that terrible cough that caused so much pain you brought me cough drops and breakfast. Thank you for caring enough to be late for work. 

To the one who called every other day, if not every day to check on me in the midst of the hardest time in your life. Thank you.

To my unofficial 'nurse' thank you for reminding me to take it slow and coming to get me out of the house just when I thought I was going to lose what's left of my mind.

To the friend who brought the best pasta over and walked around my apartment with me the day after I got out of the hospital, thank you.

Last but most definitely not least, the friend who cleaned my house, did my laundry, made my lunch and 'gently' reminded me to take care of myself first. Every week for 6 weeks you made it a point to come by and help me. THANK YOU!

My Sweet Angel Girl,

Today was beautiful and peaceful. We received the sweetest phone calls, texts and Facebook messages. Your aunts had the best birthday wishes for you. I didn't hear from your dad, but I know he's thinking of you today. Here is your birthday video. Hugs and kisses in heaven.

Loving you until I breathe no more,

​Mommy

 If you know anything about me or have visited the insomnia page of this site you know puzzles have often been my source of sanity over the last few years. I've worked dozens of puzzles and generally complete them within a week or less. This one has been a little different. I have been working on it for over a year now. When I started working it I was making steady progress then all of a sudden it seemed like none of the pieces fit. I would spend hours trying to finish a section and I eventually became frustrated and put it aside. A couple of weeks ago I decided to try again and wouldn't you know the pieces starting falling into place. I was so excited, I worked it on it for hours because I didn't want to lose my momentum. Then it happened, the pieces stopped fitting again. I'll admit I was little disappointed but unlike before I wasn't frustrated. I simply put it aside and came back a few days later. While trying to make the pieces fit it occurred to me my life if much like this puzzle.

I've spent the last few years not only picking up the pieces of my life but somehow trying to make them fit into a picture or idea that makes sense. There has to be a reason for all of the hell I have been through. Losing my father then my daughter in less than two years, the depression that followed, the loss of friendships/relationships I thought were lifelong, losing my job, being evicted, sleepless nights, overwhelming fear and the countless other emotions and issues that have arisen over time. I think the only thing that's kept me is the idea that all of these pieces will come together and somehow make sense. I'll be honest, that day has not come and I don't know that it ever will. In the same way I've learned to step back with the puzzle I've learned to step back and not worry about the pieces of my life. 

Is it difficult? Yes! Do I still have sleepless nights? Yep. Depression? Still here, consider it an old friend of mine. But, do I have hope? Most definitely. See, when I step back and let the pieces fall where they may it gives me an incredible peace. This is not to say that I don't care about what happens in my life or that I am not actively seeking to change certain aspects of it. What it does mean is when I feel like smiling, crying, screaming, being quiet or whatever the moment calls for; I do it without apology or shame. I used to be so concerned with people's perception of me. I went through many heartaches before daddy and Kelinda but very few knew. I went out of my way to assure people I was alright. It's a new day and like the lyric says '...there's so much more of me I'm showing now. These are the pieces of me'.

Dear Allyn,

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact you're gone. Just a week ago we were laughing and complaining about nothing good on TV in the hospital. I've experienced so much grief in my life, especially the last few years and you were such a huge help to me in two of the toughest times of my life. When my daddy passed away I was so lost and angry. I will never forget coming to your house a few weeks after the funeral. You met me at the front door with the biggest hug. A year later when I lost my heartbeat, you were the first person to reach out to me mother to mother. Your words were kind and encouraging. There were no big speeches or those horrific platitudes that make me wanna scream. You let me know it was OK to cry, be angry with God and whoever else I chose at the moment :). The best thing you did was tell me the truth.You told me this was the  worst pain that doesn't go away it just becomes different. Not to mention you gave me that heartwarming, tear inducing hug the first time I saw you after her death. I'll be honest, I'm feeling a little lost wondering who will understand and offer the comfort you have for so long.

You've always made me feel comfortable. I could be crying one minute and making what some consider inappropriate jokes the next but you understood. You laughed, you cried and made equally 'inappropriate' jokes right along with me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the fact you never belittled my grief. You lost an adult child, but you sincerely sympathized with my loss.I remember a conversation where you told me that my loss may be a little worse because I never had the chance to gain the memories you had with MIndy. Just another way you're awesome. Most people never make that connection, but you did. 

The family has thanked me a thousand times for coming out to see you this week. The truth is I came because I love you but I'm also a little selfish. I wanted to spend some time with you because I didn't know what was going to happen. Experience and you have taught me to do what feels right for me regardless of what others think. Because of that I was able to experience all of my favorite moments with you; your smile, your laugh, your hug and I was able to hear you say I love you one more time. For the rest of my life I will remember the things I learned sitting at your table laughing, crying and eating some of my favorites. I'm sad that you're gone and I will miss your hugs, your laugh, your support but most importantly your unconditional love. You took me, your daughter's co-worker/friend and made me family. 

Love always,

Kera

P.S. I know there are a few people you've got to get to in heaven, but if you don't mind kiss my angel girl when you get a chance.

It's the last few minutes of Mother's Day. How I wish I was celebrating with my angel girl....Grateful for the people who continue to love me and honor the fact I am a mother. I played this song so much in my last month of pregnancy. So for my Kelinda, I love everything about you. Until I breathe no more.