May 14 ~ Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms, mothers, step mothers, foster mothers, surrogate mothers, grandmothers, godmothers, aunts and aunties... be they wicked or not.

Canto a Yemaya

I've spent most of this morning cleaning up the house, both physically and spiritually (candles and sage). The drums of my people have been playing in the background as I've gone up and down the house stairs, trying to find a place for some of the things I slowly keep bringing home from my parents' apartment. My sister and I have until the end of the month to completely clear out the place. The task seems a little overwhelming at times, as though we haven't even touched the surface of what's there. Bags upon bags of garbage have gone out the door, and even more bags have been donated to charity. We're being very careful though, going through everything as thoroughly as possible, but the more we move aside... the more of yesterday we seem to find.

Once all is said and done, I intend to gather up all the photos and letters we have found into a book to honor our parents' journey.

Yemaya is the universal mother. From her waters flowed all life. She washes away all sorrow, grief, and anger with her tides, leaving behind beautiful pearls exposed in the sand. May she wash me away too... and find the pearl that I hope dwells within my soul.

A Journey Closes...

My mother is dying. I've been slowly making my peace with that statement for some time now. After all, the destination for all of us is the same. We all eventually end up as ash and someone's memory. It's no secret to those who know me personally, that my mother and I rarely ever saw eye to eye on things. The few times we did, however, were pretty nice. Unfortunately though, most of the time we were worlds apart in our thinking. I think it would be an injustice to both of us to say it was just due to me being gay. Though that was, of course, definitely a factor. We were in so many ways, polar reflections of each other. So very different... and yet so very much alike. I find myself lately often wondering how different her life, my sister's, and my own would have been if her eyes had just been capable of looking at the world a little gentler.

This morning she was taken to the hospital from her nursing home as "unresponsive". Her breathing is very labored. I'm not sure if I will ever hear her voice again. Probably not. Even after having all the olive branches I ever extended burnt (and burning a few of hers), I will still miss her very much. I honestly hope that she soon finds the peace that so sadly eluded her in this life.