Quixotic

In 1997, my 19-year-old brother Joel Joash was murdered in Virginia. This event would turn my family upside down and cause a lifelong battle with grief and heartache. The night he died is etched into the fabric of who I am today. Meaning, that event forever altered who I am in this lifetime. My brother was selling drugs.  My  mother—with all her best efforts couldn’t get him to stop selling drugs. The night he died, he had a confrontation with another drug dealer that would lead to his shooting death. I don’t want to re-live the facts as they are from that night. They cause too much trauma. I want to focus on how I have made it through the pain all these years later. I was 21 when he died, old enough to understand how the justice system failed us, how my brothers unlawful behavior contributed to his own death.   In the beginning of the grief process, all I could do was cry, probably through the first year after. I couldn’t talk about what happened to him, I couldn’t l...

It was Memorial Day weekend 2017. We had gone to church, myself, Leah, and another couple Leah is friends with. Then we decided to have a backyard BBQ. I was on the grill, others were in the kitchen preparing things and we all were drinking.  The day turned into night, and we were all extremely drunk. I decided that I would perform some spoken word, well that turned left real quick, my poetry soured the mood, I remember most of it was erotic and a bit personal—but hey it’s my poetry. So then an argument ensues. Everyone needs a timeout. I kicked the couple out; and Leah decides she was going to leave with them.  Not to mention one of Leah’s friends present was openly flirting with me..So I remember being pissed off about the whole scenario.  Leah and I talk the next day and I want to be done—I am done. I tell her I’m having problems with being gay, questioning my faith and the argument from the night before just underscored my need for change. She doesn’t take it w...

When the twisted winds of pain Push me down to Valleys low, I cry Power tears And Pray Power prayers I stand bare hands open After years of holding children’s small hands And locking hands with members of my church Clasped hands span over decades Now holding hands of adult children Soon to be my grey hands Problems gone I released those sorrows into the Master’s hands Because trouble don’t last always

My son grew up knowing how much I love him and he still does. He also had wonderful opportunities to learn, grow, and have success during his early years. I spent countless hours encouraging him and providing guidance. Most of all, I set an example for him, he watched me earn a BS then an MBA, work and earn a decent living which provided comfort for him and his sister. I also took my children to church. So that they could have faith in God. My son had every opportunity to shine. Despite my parenting efforts, he ended in prison by the time he was 19 years old. I remember sitting in the courtroom with my stomach in knots, in a surreal fog as the sheriff lead my son out in front of the judge, shackled and handcuffed. My heart sank into the bottom of the Atlantic—never to forgive myself, how the hell did I let this happen? Then a quiet voice reminds me: I gave my son everything I had as a mother to give, love, support, encouragement, he made some bad decisions—despite my best intentio...

I often wonder do others have a single event that split their life into two parts, before x and after x. The first experience was losing my 19-yr. old brother to murder in 1997 (separate post all together). The second experience was a car accident in 2013. Before the accident I was working full-time making decent money, vibrant and active, social and enjoying discovering the new city I had just moved to. After the accident my entire life would change. One day I was traveling on the freeway and I was involved in a serious crash. I was transported to the hospital via EMS. My mother was called on the scene of the accident, I remember the fear in her voice “are you ok???” Yes, I tell her, she immediately starts saying “thank God, thank God you are alright”. I hand the cell phone back to the stranger who let me call my mother, while I sat on the ground waiting for EMS to arrive. I will never forget how God protected my life that day. I remember thinking as the accident unfolded in slo...

I was having a text conversation with my soul Sista friend Kiana.   We have always had transparent conversations, and this conversation wasn’t any different. She reminded me that I am a serial dater. I take short breaks between relationships (historically) and don’t really like being without a partner. I had to take a few days and figure that out. Here is the dynamic that I understand about myself. I am by nature—introverted. However, I can also be extroverted when I want to be. For example, I have trouble calling new people on the phone because I am shy, I would rather text them. Furthermore, I can perform spoken word with a room full of people—I have performed spoken word with a room full of people during gay pride. I started to think about it. I enjoy my solitude—it’s how I recharge. I don’t have many visitors at my house. I spend a great deal of my time—alone. Until I’m in a relationship, then I spend most of my time with my partner. I also enjoy spending time with my family....

It’s 2014 my ex Emily broke up with me (again) in May of that year. Our former relationship was so unfulfilling. So I ended up using a dating site in June and connected with Debra. My ex and I didn’t spend much time together, so I was over her and wanted to move on.   Debra is a poet, writer, and enjoys many of the social events I enjoy. She even understood my back injury and offered to help with different things that I may have needed. We end up spending a lot of time together over the next few months. The summer of 2014, as I remember it. We go to open mic nite and perform, we go to the beach, and we introduce each other to our children. So one day we were talking, and I asked so are we “girlfriends” she looks at me kind of strange and tells me to think back to when we first started dating, I told you I don’t titles; and I vaguely recall her saying those exact words. I just thought after 3 months of dating and sex—we were official, right, dead ass wrong. Her next words perplexed ...