Tag: Death

Home To Nowhere: Part III

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Microfiction: Kelsey’s Parents: Kimya & Kazi

AI Generated Image of a Black couple hugging & smiling on a green couch, wearing neutral colors, surrounded by soft lighting & candlelight. Created with Canva.

Kelsey’s parents, Kimya and Kazi, have given their lives to raising a beautiful, intelligent, God-fearing, encouraged-to-question, and free-thinking group of children. They are full of life, love, and determination. They don’t fear having hard discussions with their family, but this subject . . .wears them out.

Kimya was Kelsey’s birth mother, Leila’s best friend. Kelsey’s father, Kamal, was Kazi’s younger brother. When Leila found out she was pregnant, in true rejection form . . . Kamal broke up with her–denied the child–shunned Leila from that moment forward.

Kelsey was born. Leila asked Kimya and her boyfriend (at the time), Kazi to christen the baby as her godparents. They vowed to do whatever they could to care for Kelsey if needed.

Shortly after Kelsey was four months old, Leila took her life. Kamal, finding out the news two days later, took his. Kimya and Kazi stepped in: a best friend–a brother–godparents–parents.

Kelsey would be theirs. They would raise her as theirs. She would know true, unconditional, and undeniable love. And she has.

The day they both dreaded is here.

Part I and Part II

Holiday Spirit: Yours Will Be Missed, Nikki.

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#1. Basement Level: One of my neighbors’ doors– decorated for the holidays.
#2. Fourth (technically Fifth) Floor: my neighbor, Ms. Lisa’s door.
#3. My door. How do you like my doormat?

81 years of your words
channeling ties to writers
before you–Baldwin, your
brother-in-verse can breathe
easier now.

heaven has its two wordplayers
in one space again, what will
it do?
we’ll miss your timeless
poetry, your swaying voice,
and your infectious smile.

holiday havoc meshes with
upcoming winter cheer, and
a world without you can
only hold on to your spirit.

you fade into black . . .
your final number,
an encore.

Rest in Power, Nikki Giovanni. Your words live on–and through them, so do you. Amen.

For You, My Love, On Your Birthday

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Chrissy & I during one of my birthday weekends (maybe my 37th birthday?) in Orlando, Florida. Photo Credit: My cousin, Phil, her husband.

Two full years now
And I’m still trying
But it has gotten better
Without you

It’s not my best
But I do give it my all
Effort isn’t wasted
Without you

It’s colder now
I could use one of your hugs
October isn’t as scary
Without you

This morning, I whispered
To the air around me a
Happy Birthday song that sounded flat
Without you

But I wanted you to know
I’ll never forget, we’ll never forget
The perfect thing we had in life
Without you

Happy Birthday, Chrissy. I still miss you. I always will. But it hurts just a little (major emphasis on little) less without you. 🙏🏾💙

The Disrespectful Acts of a Ghost

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Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

There is no easy way to share this information, so I will just spill it. Spirits are attracted to me. I am not weirded out by it nor does it frighten me.

It’s intriguing.

This past Wednesday afternoon, while making calls for work, my coffeemaker turned on and attempted to percolate. However, there was no water or coffee in the machine. I had to quickly finish my call, run to my kitchen, and turn the darn thing off. I even unplugged it for good measure.

Fast-forward to this past Sunday–my dishwasher turned on and began a washing cycle. Um . . . I don’t use the dishwasher. I never have. I am old-school, I wash dishes in the kitchen sink.

Now, me being the logical person I am, yet innately aware of spiritual manifestations, I have no qualms with this ghost/spirit. But if it plans to continue to stick around and activate appliances, I need it to start pitching in on the bills. No one is allowed a free ride. Even my pets, Jernee & Zumi, supply me with love, kisses, and attention. They have become accustomed to this way of life without paying me monetarily.

Paranormal activity from beings I cannot see are no different. It will not live here rent-free if I’m not benefiting from it in some way.

I mean . . . conjure up some groceries or make a couple monthly bills disappear. Spook the hell out of these streaming services and have them drop their prices. DO SOMETHING other than stir up noise while I’m working or trying to relax. Times are far too hard to have electricity going to waste like this! I do not think I’ve ever had this level of disrespect from a spirit.

When I was in my late twenties, I stayed with a then-lover and her family, and in the room I called home for three days, the TV came on and went off during the night by itself–every night. I asked her family if it was on some sort of built-in timer and both she and them confirmed it was not. I chalked it up to my late, maternal grandmother trying to connect with me on some level and left it at that.

A simple act, right? No harm, no foul. No interruptions that I couldn’t get through and maintain a sense of normalcy.

This particular ghost/spirit, though, is already shaping up to be something of a force to be reckoned with. The disrespect! The total lack of care! The utter unwillingness to think about my pockets and my bank account!

I have resorted to keeping my ears to the ground. If another occurrence takes place, I am sure it will be some sort of sign.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s trying to tell me something.

Running With the Clouds Part VI

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Jake Understands Now (Microfiction)

Jake sees the Bone Marrow Specialist near his oncologist’s office for a consultation. The staff is helpful. The specialist is knowledgeable with a lovely bedside manner.

His success rate is 94%. Many of his patients live an additional ten to twenty years. His demographic is geriatric, but Miranda pleaded with him to see Jake. He agreed. He said Miranda’s plea moved him.

Now that they have her bone marrow, they can perform the transplant. Jake sits with every detail, says a silent prayer for his deceased sister, and cries softly.

Her death gives him life.

This concludes the Running With the Clouds series. Thank you for reading.

Part I, Part II, Part III,  Part IV, & Part V

Running With the Clouds Part V

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Dominique’s Miracle (Microfiction)

Dominique is a twenty-eight-year-old teacher from Little Rock who has been waiting for a kidney for sixteen months.

Sixteen months . . .

Every day is a struggle for her. How much energy would she use explaining trigonometry to seventeen year olds? Who would be the first to see sweat pour from her fingertips at 1:15 PM?

Dialysis on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday . . . try not to die Saturday and Sunday. And then, Miranda happened.

She’s a match. The perfect match.

Soon, there’ll be no more waiting.

Part I, Part II, Part III, & Part IV