May I tell you how much you mean to me?

You mean EVERYTHING to me. I wish I could tell you.

Is it too late? Have I missed the chance. How about I hate myself for not cherishing you MORE when I had you here with me.

Yesterday was rough.

Sometimes I get through it easy enough and other times, I’m just numb.

August 18th was my mother’s birthday. I lost her almost 20 years ago.

It feels like yesterday.

I miss her so much.

She was so beautiful..

I had two kids before she departed this life. I wish they had known more of her but they were really too young. My oldest remembers her vividly and still questions why I didn’t let her visit her grandmother in the hospital. I thought I was protecting her, and honestly I thought I had more time. Boy, was I wrong.

My mother did all the right things. She ate right. Was active enough. She never smoked or drank. But her heart, well it was as weak. Perhaps it was the years of abuse she suffered in her early marriage years. Perhaps it was the the broken-heartedness she suffered from having her baby boy snatched from her by that monster of a husband she had. The questions are many, but the answers are few.

She was so gentle and kind. Hilariously funny and truly angelic. Perhaps too much for this world. The only thing I know with certainty is that I miss her terribly. The yearning never quiet goes away. At times I’m going about my day and from out of no where I get a whiff of her smell. Floral and pure. It’s crazy. My daughter tells me she often smells her too.

I know she’s present.

Watching. Looking. Protecting.

But is she proud? God I hope so.

I was twenty- seven years old when she passed.

If only I knew then what I know now.

Well Ma.. what else can I say. Rest on in heavenly peace. Thank you for watching over me and your grandchildren. I know you’ve got the angels working over time because me and your grandchildren are an absolute piece of work! We love and honor you always and forever. We’ll never forget you.


Family is one of life’s greatest blessings.

A household full of unconditional love and nurturing where you share your hurts, joys, laughter and fears.

Members who a share the same values, beliefs and traditions.

A group descending from a common ancestor.

Your support system.

The people who know you best.

Those with whom you make the greatest memories of your life.



For more months than I care to remember, my life has been one heck of an obstacle course.
Yes, I’ve been absent.
Yes, I’ve been bothered.
Yes, I’ve been woozy, lost, dazed, and ripped up inside.
I’ve watched someone die.
Someone that I love. But more than that, get this,  it was someone that I loved.
She was my everything.
She accepted me.
She loved me.
She loved my children.
She gave herself to me, to us, unconditionally.
She was my grandmother, and I watched and I prayed, and I saw her dying.
A vicious mass 16 centimeters came along, didn’t ask any questions, it just came and positioned it self inside of her and wrecked all of our lives.
Her heart, worn and battered from years on the battle field of life, simply had given up.
She fought.
We tried.
We fought for her.
We fought with her.
We encouraged her.
We loved her.
And.. we lost her.
My life is shattered. In shambles. I don’t think anyone gets that she was the all and the everything.
She was the boom and the bip. The sugar to the Kool aid. She was the main ingredient. She was the rest of the story.
She was gracious and beautiful and full of wisdom and lessons.
She was music. Gospel music. Powerful. Strong. The alto of all Altos.
She was my Jumae.
From the beginning she’s always been there.
Not sometimes.
Not with conditions.
Just there, always.
She protected me. She rescued me. And I wanted to do the same for her.
I was helpless. Although I tried everything I could, it didnt work and so,  I watched.
I watched her slip away. Little by little. Bit by bit, breath by breath. I watched. And it shook every fiber of me.
I watched her grow silent.
I watched her in fear.
I watched her grow angry.
I watched her withdraw.
I watched her transition.
I watched the dying.
And through it all, she was so brave.
My family, we were there. The way she wanted it.
We watched her suffering, but only for a little while. I wanted the pain to stop. I was relieved when it did. Then I felt guilty about feeling relieved. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted her to stay. She was so full of life. But she had to go.
She went from shock, to saddness, to disbelief, to denial, to depression, to hope, to dispair, to faith, to withdrawal, to acceptance, to transition.
I watched her going.
I stroked her arm.
I whispered in her ear. “Thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me.”
She looked at me.. she didn’t talk much in the end. Sometimes she mananged to say I love you too. But she was always mumbling bible verses. Encouraging herself. She knew her word. She kept it in her heart. She taught me. I stare in the mirror and I see her eyes, I see her face, I see her spirit in me.
I am everything I am, because of who she was.
I love music.
I am cultured.
I am strong.
I am brave.
I am giving.
I am loving.
I am gifted.
Jumae taught me.
She told us she would be here for thanksgiving, and she was. And after all the chaos of the day. After seeing everyone, and us loving on her, later that night, after almost everyone left, she left too. And she did it as she always did, she did it Julia’s way.
That was her thing to say, “yes, I did it, but I did it Julia’s way.”
She traveled the world, she recorded albums and songs, she sang with some of the best known singers this world has to offer.
She did it all, and she did it her way.
She was remarkable.
The bravest, and strongest woman I know.
I am honored to have known her.
I am in awe of the beauty of every part of her, even to the last minute, even in watching the dying.
I had to let her go.
I loved her, we loved her. But God loved her best.
I will miss her always.
I will honor her always.
And I will be the kind of woman and mother that she taught me to be.
When you see greatness in me, please know, Jumae taught me.
My angel. With the voice of an angel. Is resting with the angels.

Julia Mae Price-WIlliams -Great is Thy Faithfulne…:

In memory of my loving grandmother Julia Mae Price-Williams 1937-2014

The book titled ,The Needs of the Dying by David Kessler really helped me see that dying was as much a part of life as living. It helped me put things in perspective.
Excerpt :

The need to be treated as a living human being, the need for hope, the need to express emotions, the need to participate in care, the need for honesty, the need for spirituality, and the need to be free of physical pain.

Peace and love,

Other than God, no one knows the pain that wakes me up at night, yearning, missing, and thinking of my first baby. My baby bruddah.

The commotion starts, the kind reminiscent of a war cry. I see the tears streaming her face and I feel like a piece of garbage for not being able to help her. She doesn’t make eye contact with me, and immediately I know it’s because she can’t. Looking at me will just put a sting to her already stained eyes. Looking at me and bruddah hurts too much right now.
She is ashamed.
Clearly shaken.
She is defeated.
I feel like garbage.
She cradles the phone. She’s looking at no where in particular, still holding onto the phone.
Eventually, she dials a number. She explains as best she can that she has been beat into oblivion; Again.
She can’t live like this anymore. She is scared to death. She is afraid she may die.
She succeeds in saying all this because for the moment, the monster is gone. Running for drugs, or even better laying up with one of his women. One thing for sure, he hurts her every chance he gets. He is indeed the enemy.

After that phone call, everything happened in fast forward. Packing clothes, U-haul truck, the grandparents, at long last showing up to save us. It all happened so fast.

I held my baby brother. His eyes looking to me for answers that I didn’t have. All I knew is, I couldn’t let him go. If I did, I would break apart. I might even die. For he was my everything. I loved him so. His smell, his eyes brown and bright, his smile, his curly hair, and his tiny fingers, he was mine. The cutest little boy in the world. And he was so easy to love. I protected him from the night terrors, the boogie man, and from that viciously swinging  belt. It was my job, he was mIne. He looked up to me, but yet, I wanted to do everything he did. He sucked his thumb at night, I sucked mine’s too. He carried a special blanket around, and I wanted one too. He was remarkable. He could light the sky with that smile of his, and he always had the power to make her feel better after one of many attacks from the monster. Baby bruddah was our world.

Finally, our help came and we were free from the monster. Except, he took hold of the one thing in life that meant anything to me.
I felt my heart beating faster.
Maybe I’m hyperventilating.
Maybe I’m dying.
He is the air I breathe. I’m fainting. I’m seven years old, and I’ve passed out from confusion. When I woke up, baby bruddah was gone.
Just like that.

It was decided, “you can go, take your daughter, but you can’t have my son.”

I can’t explain how I felt. How I still feel. The pain that grips me. Sometimes daily. One person loved me alot. One person held my hand at night. One person depended on me. It was him. Baby bruddah. He took him away from me.
Was I ever considered?  Did anyone for a second think about what this would do to me, or him. I became angry. I lashed out at her, as if she had the strength or power to take on an entire monster. She wasn’t built for it. Her love was deep. Her heart was broken, but fight, she could not. This changed us all. In a nutshell, it has shaped our lives.

Now as adults, we struggle to put back together what was so selfishly ripped from us. I feel cheated. My brother feels cheated. And, after all these years, I still harbor a tremendous amount of guilt mostly caused by a death that cut off any chance of reconnection between a mother and her baby son. It rattles my mind, and my heart, and I ache for what could have been.

I live. I love. I’m happy. I’m conscious of my feelings. I know, I know, I cannot live in the past. 
But guess what.
I still ache.
I still get angry about it.

This is extremely difficult for me to write. Not so much that I’m afraid of the feelings, but it still shocks me that my heart breaks like this. It’s difficult watching my tears soak the pages of my notebook. It doesn’t matter how soaked the pages get, the feelings don’t wash away.
These tears signify liquid prayers.
A river of liquid prayers.

We’ve gotten better. We know that what happened wasn’t our fault. We know it, but we still struggle.

I thought about asking my brother if he’d be okay with me writing this. It was a hard decision. We are both extremely private. I wrote it a long time ago and never really had the courage to post it. Then I read a fellow bloggers story of her life without her brothers and it seemed so interconnected with my own thoughts and feelings. I cried the whole time reading it, and I felt relieved that someone else felt like me. That was when I knew, this post wasn’t going to just be for me. It’s someone else that may need to hear a story like this.

I’ve written it to the best of my ability. It’s the way the spirit lead me to do it. I’ve gone as deep as I’m willing to.

To my bruddah. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again, we loved you back then. I love you still. The closest and only thing other than my kids that connects me to our mother. It’s you. The eyes. The spirit. I see her in you. I am proud of you and the man you’ve become. The father you’ve become, truly phenomenal. We promised each other. We made a vow. We must never forget, or loose ourselves again. I pray you understand my heart and my words. The ultimate goal in this would be for you to know, more than anything, I was affected. And you are loved.

A true life short by Dee

I love you.
I can’t stand you.
You make me happy.
You make me cry.
You are a listening ear.
You talk to much.
You go away,
You always come back
You are always there for me
When I need you,
You are always there for me

You are imperfect
I know that
can’t get through life without you
I love you
I need you
My family


Family—they get on my nerves sometimes, but we remain/are close in spite of it. And… the fact is, I can’t live without them !

Peace and love,

School delay.
School closing.

My job doesn’t care about any of it,  be on time.
These weather related school closings are hell on parents, especially single ones. If another parent were in the home, I would be like, “uh un, I’m not staying home, it’s your time,  I did it last week.”


I’m laughing but I’m pissed!

Look I know the rules ok..
I follow the rules. My work ethic is solid.
And every now and then, unforeseen foolery occurs.

But now, it’s starting to affect my upcoming vacation time. If this continues my children will be sitting around singing “kum ba yah my lord” during their spring break instead of being on a gorgeous vacation.


and then….
adding insult to injury, school resumed today,  well all schools except my seven years olds school. The power still hasn’t been restored in some areas/schools.
I should be understanding huh? Even though this is ruining my paid time off.

Now the hard choice comes in.
Do I:
1. Keep the older kids at home with the little kid?
2. Stay home with the little kid and get the occurrence and use yet another day of vacation time? (It’ll be the 6th day in the last 3wks, all weather/school closing related)
3. Take little miss I’m out of school today to work with me and have coworkers, patients,  doctors, nurses all look at me like I’m crazy?

Choices, choices…

I tried to talk to my manager about this,  and she is basically Ray Charles to it. She doesn’t see that a problem exist for me. GET To Work On Time.  That’s what she knows.
The life of a single mother,  it ain’t easy!
Where are you SPRING. I need you. ..
This too shall pass.


Warning: This will make your day. Enter at your own risk.

I’m kind of certain,  that you haven’t seen anything more funny, precious, or adorable this whole day. I’m offering a money back guarantee if you don’t so much as crack a smile.
You’ll probably roll over in laughter.

I’ve watched it a half dozen times myself this morning and I wanted to share this laughter because baby baby made me feel all types of good.
She proves it! Laughing is good for the soul.

And the parents.  Awwww, what an awesome memory to have. To know their own baby has tickled the world with laughter. So precious.

Now, if that doesn’t jump start your day with goodness and joy, well then my dear you might be a lost cause. 🙂

Peace and love today