Memory. Taking Stock, Progress & Praise

Today is a day I normally spend alone. In a graveyard shedding tears and conversing with my beloved grandmother Violet Wiltshire. She passed on when I was 21, to this day I still feel an emptiness that can not be filled by anyone else. When I lost her, it was like losing my mother. See she and my grandfather raised me until I was a teen and sent (by court order) to live with my mother. Being a child caught in the middle of a domestic violence dispute between my mother and older brother, she was my rock. She kept my world from spinning out of control with her infectious joyful demeanor and constant emphasis on learning and growth. I owe my academic excellence, passion for art and black history, and all the other good parts of me to her.
Today is her birthday. When I was young, we would have a family gathering that rivaled the Braxtons to celebrate and honor her. There isn't a person who knew her, that didn't love her. After my grandfather's passing, the celebrations became smaller; more intimate gathering of relatives and close friends. Until we were split apart by distance and circumstance.
My birthday is in 6 days. I will be 30. Kind of a big deal. And while I harbor excitement around what my 30's hold, today I am overwhelmed by the sadness of her absence. The fact that she is not around. She didn't live to meet any of her great-grandchildren. That she is not here as I ascend into my womanhood. While I always feel her presence, her spirit holding me daily; its not the same. Her physical presence is what I long for. The peace her hugs brought. The way she could make rainbows out of muck. The way she over cooked every vegetable she ever cooked for my brother and I, yet still got us to eat them (mostly). But most of all, I miss her conversation. The living history that she was. A black woman, educated, and professional during a time when black people weren't expected (and in most places, allowed) to be. I think about the conversations we would share now. I think about picking her brain for hours in the same manner she revealed the true history not taught to me in my school. I wish she were here to talk to me. Or rather, respond to my constant chattering to her. I miss her correcting my grammar, and improper manners. As I ascend into my womanhood, I wonder if she is proud of me. The course I've taken, while at times weary and skewed, mostly righteous and good. If she sees her sunshine in the eyes of her great-grands. Does she hold us all? Has she chosen to be reborn into them just to remain close to us? I wonder if she has been reunited with her lifelong love, and if they are still living their happily ever after. If the reason i feel secure being a mom is because their love flows through me, providing me strength to continue forward in life.
In 6 days I will be 30. If I have learned anything, it's that I am the sum of my experiences. My mind was plied with positivity and a love of learning from an early age thanks to her. And thanks to her, I am a strong willed, accepting, flexible, considerate, kind hearted, fair, compromising, idealistic, dreaming, free spirit that can not be contained. She has taught me that a quiet rebellion is as (if not more) effective as rowdy resistance. That not all struggles have to be armed. That an opportunity may not always be in your best interest, so it's okay if you're not willing to sacrifice your integrity or your soul for it. She taught me its okay to ask questions, especially when in pursuit of the truth and clarity. She taught me that its okay to not hold my tongue for anything, but to know to use it wisely. She taught me that I was beautiful just the way I am, and to always believe in myself no matter what society or anyone says. She was the first person to show me how amazing I could be. I hope I've done her proud.
When she passed I was chosen to give the eulogy. I remember standing on the podium of our church, looking at faces I hadn't seen since my childhood. I tried to fit someone else's words for her in my mouth but my tongue couldn't hold them. All that came forth were loving words divided by tears. I remember someone coming to take me to sit down so the congregation could hear the remainder of the prepared speech. I still don't remember who it was or what was said. What I do remember was staring at her still body through glassy eyes until her casket was closed and ushered into the hearse that would take her to her final resting place; Greenwood Cemetery next to her husband of 55 years. The rest of the day was a blur. Maybe because I drank myself into oblivion with my mom and older brother. Maybe because my spirit is trying to protect my heart from the pain I felt during that time. Whatever it is, every year on this day, I write and cry and pray for her knowing she will never return.



In memory of Violet Fitzgerald Wiltshire, beloved grandmother, mother, wife, deaconess, teacher, & friend. May you be resting in peace.

Never draw a line in the sand...

"You should stop drawing lines in the sand, the ocean will wash it away and make you forget your place" -JSansChez


Its late. I'm sitting in  my husbands house, the house I formerly shared with him, our kids and his family. I want to cry like I have every night for the last week but I can't. I won't. Not here, not now. Not in this place where so many of my tears have already been shed. Occasionally I look over my shoulder, watching ghosts replay the past.

Today while drying off my 3 year old daughter, she tells me that she doesn't like me.  She goes on to tell me that she doesn't want me here. When I ask her why she says "because you hurt daddy's feelings" Because I hurt daddy's feelings... I had to fight the anger inside of me at that moment in time. Realizing that this 3 year old child has no clue as to what has transpired between her father and I. He view is completely distorted by the words he tells her. His version, which in my opinion, is way too adult for her toddler mind. She may have seen him crying. And my heart bleeds if she did. But I get frustrated at how he has began physical altercations in front of her and she sees it as me hurting him. I fear that she will be raised to accept violence and victimization in her relationships in the future because despite what we go through, in her eyes I am the perpetrator. I am wrong. Because in her fathers eyes, I am wrong.

It makes me really think about what I am holding on to.  I think about what I am passing on. Or rather, allowing to be passed on to my children. Particularly my daughter. She will one day grow up to be a black woman. Societal assumptions aside, she's got a lot to fight against. Where will she end up if she already believes she would be wrong for standing up for herself. For exiting a toxic relationship for the salvation of her soul, she'll be wrong. Will she learn the tradition of repression or the custom of expression in her life?  I can only look to myself for these answers. The answers lie in the lessons I am teaching. And since I do not have the privilege  of living with them, I don't know how to be effective in what i teach them. Aside from quitting my job and being with them 24/7. An obscene thought to my independent,driven mind. Not that I couldn't be a stay at home mom, I'm just not built for that mentally. It drives me insane, when I have nothing to contribute to the income & welfare of my household.. Its not who I am.Not that I am incapable of doing domestic tasks, but I recognize the fact that I was raised to be apart of a team, not a single parent. Not a dormat, subordinate, or homebody. I was taught to be ambitious, to go after what i want and to get it. I wish for my daughter to be instilled with the same gusto. I hope she gets my lust and passion for life. I hope she knows her worth, always.

Its nights like these when I get mad at my heart. For wanting a man that is so confusing.. That demands I take responsibility for words while he takes no responsibility for his actions. It confounds me how he can say I don't want to be a mother to my children when he's the one that put me in the position I'm in at the moment. Walking away from him shouldn't have meant I had to walk away from them. I'm all for talking to children as if they are older, it gives them a sense of maturity. It helps them to understand whats going on. But some things shouldn't be said. Speaking to children and saying things like "mommy has to decide what she wants", it makes them think I don't want them. And that is/was never the case. Post-partum aside, my kids are the single greatest accomplishment of my life. They are the only think I have done right, the only people I strive to do right by always. They are the first and last thought on my mind. I break my neck to give them as much time as I can while trying to balance work, a flourishing art career, and womanhood. And they think I don't want to be with them and it breaks my heart.

There's an old saying that goes "never let the kids know mommy & daddy are fighting". Its the only thing I have ever truly tried to avoid. But its hard when your partner is so hot blooded. And me being reactionary,  I fight so hard not to feed into it every time. Lately I've been getting better at taking a breath and stepping away from arguments. Retreating to the idea that there is humanity in him. That there is hope in us. Not in our marriage but in us. Two adults that communicate honestly and openly, that raise their children with love and respect. I don't see why we have to revert to this passive aggressive life of silent hostility because our marriage isn't working. Why all the lies on top of lies on top of lies, just to lay them all at my feet and call it my shit.  At this point, does it even matter?

I won't lie, this hurts. To hear someone who you've loved for so long speak in monotoned apathy, as if you are a stranger. It hurts. It hurts so much to have to let go of the hope I held for so long.  I had hoped that in our year apart he would take the same journey I was on. That he would've let me go sooner. Not because I wasn't coming back, but because I just needed room to fly. As much as we argue about the past being repeated, I always find it funny that he never notices that no matter what, I always come home.

I could go on typing for days but I'm realizing that all this is just meant for me to learn my worth, my wants & my needs. I love him, I want him but it's taken me too long to become comfortable in my own skin. To allow myself to live in truth & visibility. And I won't hide any longer. I won't be silent but I will go quietly. It may be years until we ever become friends again. My only hope now is that we can eventually cohabitate the same space at the same time in peace & love.

Letting go

This afternoon i awoke in a strange place. a place not my home or my own but felt comfortable.
Yesterday I was crushed by the last person I expected. Was is deserved, I don't know anymore. I'd question my actions and his motives but when all is said and done, there is nothing more to be said. No more words to say. The relationship has been over for quite some time, we both just too weak with hope to admit it to ourselves. Too afraid to be alone to admit it to one another, only to find ourselves alone anyway. Now I face the decision I've been avoiding for years. Do we split up our children or jut all the beans into one pot.  He's an excellent father, bipolar tendencies aside he's also one of the best men I've ever loved. i just never given myself the opportunity to admit that one day it was destined to end between us because as good as we are alone, together we are toxic. It's a fact. Not a fantasy that I choose to believe. The past is full of evidence, I just wouldn't hear the case. uop't face the truth that holding on, only made the ropes fray faster. Until eventually you're forced to let go. The problem, we didn't fall back into love, we fell face first into insecurities and pain. In pain we reside. In silence we lived. In stress, hardship, and faith we continued on ignoring the signs.
but now is not time to wonder or to cry over spilt milk. Now it's time to make a plan, stick to it, and learn to live again. Without the restraints of one another. Without worry so much of what we've lost. Toni Morrison once said that the inability to let go of things, whether they be physical, mental or emotional, is a demonstration of a lack of faith. When we can let go, we make room for the blessings to come into our lives. Today I let go, of the past, the feelings that reside there, the dreams of yesterday, the disappointments, the expectations, and even the possessions of it. It is all gone and forgotten so I can remember that I deserve better in the future. I deserve to be better in the future. I deserve to give better in the future. And in the present I can be satisfied with the work I am doing to accomplish those things.