In Remembrance

 

Hello everyone. I hope that your 2025 is off to a great start. Funny enough, I did not expect this to be my first post of 2025 on No Labels Unleashed. 

Yet, it is fitting, because of the day.

Yes, today is when we honor the great Martin Luther King, Jr. This is not what this post will be about.

Yes, today is the inauguration of the next president. I won't be delving into political discourse. Just know that I will not be watching. I did not watch when this particular individual was sworn in, so I do not need to do so now.

I want to reflect on times and people worth remembering.

One such person is my Grandma.

When I say I am the embodiment of Issac (my grandpa) and Florence (my grandma), I do not express that as a catchphrase or a cool line in a poem. It is because that statement represents my essence. I take pride in these characteristics and symbolize why I often refer to myself as an "Antiquated Hybrid".

There are so many traits I inherited from my grandpa. A deep-seated work ethic. Belief in a sense of fairness. Being giving and kind. Being a woman of my word. The willingness to fight (and be unapologetic about it) when I'm dishonored and disrespected and when peaceful means failed.

Grandma was such an awesome teacher. She demonstrated balance and represented patience. She showed me the ways of etiquette and the importance of looking the part. She set the example of how to be a good listener and instilled discernment. One can be kind but also set boundaries. One can be open to love and romance, but always ensure that resources are set aside if and when relationships do not pan out. 

I did not receive these life lessons through books.

I would sit on the passenger side of Grandpa's car while he told jokes and stories. I would listen in on conversations he had with his sister in Centerville. 

Grandma and I would sit on the front porch and sip coffee while watching people walk up and down the adjacent road to our property. We would sit in the house and snap green beans or shuck peas. It would be in those moments when we cooked together and baked.

The small moments had the most powerful meanings.

I miss so many things about my grandma. Her sense of style. The gleam in her eyes when recalling a good memory or being around people she loved. The way her fingertips felt while putting Blue Magic hair grease on my scalp. The warmth of her hugs. The heartiness of her laugh. 

Grandma was one of the few people who truly knew me. She realized I was not like others and rather than dim my light, she was one of the few who allowed it to shine. She and Grandpa were advocates of my authenticity, and their bodies are no longer here.

I am sad they are not physically here, yet I am grateful they are no longer in pain. 

They are free to watch over me all the time now ... to make sure that I am doing okay. Both have brought me a "mighty long way", as Grandma would say.

This first year without Grandma has been challenging. 

Once the numbness wore off (I was numb for a while), there was this battle within myself.

One was what I would typically do — lock the emotions somewhere and press forward. Yet, this is what I did when Grandpa passed away, and I never got the opportunity to truly grieve him.

Therefore, I chose something different ... to let myself feel everything. Whether it was rational or not. Whether it was right or not.

I didn't feel right to have up a wall. The woman who raised me had died. The man who raised me had died. The people who functioned as my parents were gone.

To not properly grieve ... seemed strange, borderline disrespectful. 

Going through this process involved setbacks in my own care. It was to be expected. I accepted that where I ended up in 2024 wasn't as great as previous years. The fallacy was that I beat myself up about these setbacks. I expected myself to be a high-functioning human despite being dealt such a devastating loss. I held myself to a standard I would not impose on another human being.

My grandparents — Grandma especially — would not want me to remain stuck. Grandma would want me to use the tools I have to get back up. She'd want me to return to the activities which gave me joy, contentment, and peace. She'd encourage me to be open to those who truly love me and keep those out who have shown they do not.

I will honor my Grandma on the anniversary of her passing by keeping my heart open and living life.

Love you always.

Holidays Reimagined

 

Greetings. The Unleashed One here. After sorting through the amalgamation of topics, I finally decided on what is going to be first. It is an expansion of a post I put up for Day 16 (if I'm not mistaken) of Discovery December, which is as follows: 

I want to cover in more detail why I haven't been as cheery for the holidays as I've been previously because that hasn't always been my state of being.

The best way to describe my attitude growing up as it pertains to Christmas is a song by The Canton Spirituals. It is entitled "Mississippi Po' Boy". I remember the song playing on Sundays when my grandma would listen to the radio.

The lines that speak to me the most are: "I come from a poor family. We didn't have much. But the Lord's been good to me."

It didn't take long for me to become aware of my family's economic status. Because of that, it never occurred to me to ask for name-brand items or highly expensive things. My grandparents were taking care of me. Their income was fixed.

For me, the Christmas holidays were more about the preparation: inside and outside the house.

My late grandfather would make sure the yard was pristine. He would hang a string of lights around the edge of the roof. He'd even help dig out the Christmas tree from wherever my grandmother stored it. For convenience, she tried to keep the Christmas tree in its original box and the decorations in boxes and bags not too far away.

For economic reasons, we used the same tree every year. The only thing that changed about the tree was the color scheme of the decorations and the picking out of Christmas wrap to match the color scheme. 

On the years when we couldn't find the right wrap, we'd use one type of wrap but make extra sure to use different color bows. To and From labels were a must.

There was great care put into the Christmas meal, especially the desserts.

My grandfather would light up when he would smell that one (or all) of his favorites were being made. When we were making a cake, my grandmother and I would warn him to step carefully so that the cake "wouldn't fall". Normally, she and I would make desserts a day or two before the actual Christmas meal, but my grandfather wasn't patient enough to wait until Christmas to have a piece. We would always be able to tell it was him because of how the cake or pie was cut.

I knew that Christmas was one of my grandfather's favorite holidays. He would get excited when there was a box just for him. If he received a new cap or some new shoes, he'd make his rounds that day to let them know that "insert person here" got him "insert item".

He was glad someone just thought about him and didn't make a fuss over the price. My grandfather was just proud that he was thought about and loved and that he received something he needed and could use consistently.

When my grandfather died, it was an understatement that everything changed. No holiday was the same, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. I admit that I cannot remember if I celebrated the holidays the year that he died. I would have to rely on Facebook memories if I did.

Each year, I tried to push through, but every year, something was missing. It took my recent therapy session for it to hit home.

I was yearning for a way to recreate the spirit of the holidays but didn't know how to do so. The main one who loved the holidays so much was gone. More than eleven years later, I was still searching.

I kept telling myself various scripts.

"If I find someone (romantically) who has the holiday spirit, it would invigorate me." The romantic partners I had later in life either weren't into it or would just go along just because it made me happy. That would make me feel guilty because I knew they didn't really want to do it.

For a while, I believed that if I attached myself to another's way of celebration that it could lighten the mood and make me feel connected to home ...connected to him. The incident that happened on the 15th (which I'll probably only share with a select few) solidified that wasn't working either.

The funny thing is, I am so much like my grandfather that it's uncanny ... but how to amplify the him in me to make the holidays more festive ... well, that has become my new, ongoing assignment.

To those of you who are feeling festive, I wish you well. Check-in on those who are struggling through the holidays. Give them understanding and give them grace.

Until next time,