Sleep Well
#nowplaying A.P.I.D.T.A. by Jay Electronica
Art by: Nailah Lovell
Lately, I haven’t been sleeping well. I must admit, it’s always been an immense struggle of mine. In my early 40s, the weight of the numerous funerals I’ve attended in recent years has been overwhelming. My tears flow freely from the immense loss of those who have fallen. There’s a scene in the movie Terminator 2 where the T-1000 terminator’s material droplets merge to form its shape, much like how my uncle Benjamin, my cousin Dashuna, and my cousin Leair have contributed to shaping various aspects of my life.
The most recent funeral I attended was on Sunday, April 7th, 2024 for my cousin, who passed away at 44 from breast cancer. As I sat in the church surrounded by family, friends, and classmates in a packed church, my mind drifted to cherished childhood memories. I remembered Mackay Park, the day I became a mother, and the tough times we shared as teenage moms, connecting over shared journeys. I thought of our high school pep rallies, our long talks, and the irreplaceable moments we shared. Each of the fallen was so dear to me that my thoughts often drift to how they would have made incredible grandparents. Three beautiful souls, deeply rooted in faith, and kindness, gone too soon.
I remember opening my sneaker store back in 2013. We sold out on the first day, with about 40 minutes to closing. Suddenly, my cousin Dashuna walked through the door. I immediately smiled because it was a surprise that meant everything to me.
I also remember going through so many challenges when I first had my son. One day, as I was sitting on my bed, my phone rang, and it was Dashuna. There were many moments in my life where this occurred.
When she first told me she had breast cancer in August of 2020, my stomach immediately started turning. We were already in the middle of a pandemic, and the last thing I wanted to hear was that. But my optimism kicked in, as it often does, and I immediately did what I feel God has put us on this earth to do: help in any way we can.
I started sending her fresh fruits and vegetables for a few weeks to help support more of a plant-based approach to fighting this devastating disease.
Though I often retreat into my introverted nature for years at a time, it never diminishes the love I hold for those who have touched my heart eternally. I know it’s selfish to question why them. These three individuals were pillars of support, always there to listen without judgment, and never letting me feel unloved. I can still hear my cousin Dashuna’s voice, her laughter echoing in my mind. I could call her from a random number, and she knows exactly who she’s speaking to. Despite the pain, I find small solace in being grateful for the precious moments we shared, thanking God for each one, even though it doesn’t take the pain away.
