Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This

Hi, I’m Lisa. I’ve been blogging for about 15 years now. I’m moving the blogs from one site to this, so some may be out of order. But bare with me!!!

Where I Am From  February 22, 2021

I am from posters of Huey and Angela, hanging on black painted living room wallsFrom government cheese and Jean Nat’e
I am from six flights of pissy stairs, because the project elevators didn’t work.  Winding…..tiring stairs.  That made you feel like you were climbing all the way to Heaven.
I am from bright green spider plants, and fresh picked daffodils and flower pots made from discarded yogurt containers.  Filling up every available space on the large bright windowsill, the many plants, basking in the glorious sunlight.
I am from ten pounds of fresh little chocolate balls in a big bowl at the end of December every year; turning into stale little foil wrapped piles of dry chocolate tasting powder that we tried to give away to anyone dumb enough to accept them by March, just to get rid of them.
I am from Sara Elisebeth Finley and ……hah…he’s not worthy of the title Father.  Lets just call him sperm donor 67.
I’m from laughing til orange soda spills out of our noses, and knowing AND singing loudly as a family…EVERY SINGLE song that comes on the radio.From “Don’t be a tattletale Lisi” and “Stop reading in the’re gonna go blind!”
I’m from “We’re Marching to Zion, Beautiful Beautiful Zion!!!” with Aunties Betty, Bettie and Maxine all ready to shower me with baby powder scented hugs, kisses, praise and love every Sunday morning at Mount Calvary Baptist Church.
I’m from Boston and Scandanavia and Nigeria and the Balkans and Sierra Leone.  Boiled dinners of corned beef, potatoes and cabbage, glop, tuna noodle casserole and Fufu.
From the time that 15 year old Aja discovered “Barbados is West Indian??  I thought we were Mexican!!!??”
To the days gone by when 2 year old Aaron, suavely chatting up the college girls on the banks of the Charles, with nothing more than that big smile, a handful of dead flowers, a tired line “Here Lady…I picked this just for you” followed by some slick 2 year old conversation.  He had them completely under his spell.
From facebook, instagram, bedroom and living room walls, Steph and Lisa’s houses~ filled with as many memories as they can possibly squeeze in and it still would never be enough.  Because we realize that tomorrow truly is not promised to us and there can never be too many pictures, videos, laughs, smiles, shared glances, bright eyes, hugs or memories to try and cherish

Heavy Is My Grief 2/16/2021

Heavy Is My Grief

Weighing down my arms and legs

My eyes, feeling too heavy to open

Grief making each breath feel trapped

Halfway between my stomach and my throat

Where it would catch

And then each time, I would come back in a panic

To the future that I didn’t want to be a part of

And I’d remember to inhale            exhale             inhale

Just to start the process all over again

I started to talk to you, and tell you

How life has been going

But I stopped

Because this time I couldn’t.

So heavy is my grief

This time, I don’t want to imagine what your life would be like now

The what if’s don’t matter anymore

They’ve been taken away and now you are just GONE

Just gone.  Never to be held, touched, hugged, caressed, kissed again.

I’ll never get to listen to your silly jokes, or hear that laugh, so full of joy 

Who will I make whole bowls of potato salad for now?

Or watch, amazed as you hit the buffet 3-4 times before you stuff food into your cheeks and gums “for later”

My silly, beautiful, greedy, kind, funny, generous, forgiving girl is just GONE

And right now, I’m just feeling real heavy and real angry in my grief.  Not healed at all.  I feel like I need to start my healing journey all over again, yet I know that this is actually a part of the journey.  We go back and forth.  But right now.  Heavy is my grief.