It’s your birthday today, so I know it’s no coincidence that I’m awake writing this at 4:13AM. If there’s anybody I could call in the wee small hours of the morning… it was you. We had some of our best conversations when insomnia hit. A random “U up?” text often turned into a multiple hour conversation until sunrise. I miss those… and I miss you, more than I can express. This year has been very hard since you transitioned. Grief has kicked my ass and “depression” is a severe understatement. So much so, I didn’t know how I was going to feel coming into today. I was missing you heavily this weekend because I knew we should’ve been on your annual birthday trip somewhere. Destin, New Orleans, Myrtle Beach, Atlanta, anywhere! You loved a road trip.
The Council
I’ve planned your birthday trip or party every year for the last umpteen years. It feels so empty to not be doing so right now. “The Council” (Me, You, Mommy, and Char) loading up in the car on Thursday night, hitting the road for a long weekend getaway to celebrate you. Jammin’ playlist, snacks up the wazoo, and plenty of joking and girl talk. The Council hasn’t counseled since you transitioned Nenna. It’s just not the same without you.
I still see the glow on your face when we surprised you at home with roses and cupcakes last year because you were too sick to travel for your birthday. Little did we know it’d be your last.
Hilton Head
Which is why our last girl’s trip is even more special to me now. I remember your excitement when you planned it… You bought us matching shirts, told us where and what time to meet, and before I knew it, we were pulling up to an oceanfront resort in Hilton Head, SC. A place neither of us had ever been but had always wanted to go. And we got to go Nenna, together!
You wouldn’t tell us what the trip was for, no matter how many times we asked. April 2023… too late for my or Char’s birthday, too early for yours or Mama’s, so we couldn’t figure out what was happening. Until that first night at dinner, when you told us it wasn’t for a birthday, but a thank you. A thank you for us welcoming you into our family as an “adopted” sibling for the last 20 years, and how much you appreciated us and for our love and support of you, always. Cue the waterworks!!! As the Brits say, I was gob smacked. I can’t speak for the others, but it was certainly one of the sweetest gestures anyone had ever done for me. That weekend was filled with so much love, laughter, gratitude, and above all else sisterhood. More than our usual. As if the Universe amplified the connection because of what was coming later in the year. I am incredibly grateful, because you know the trip, or any gesture like it, was never required, expected, or necessary. You are our family, and we love you… then, now, and always.
Studio
I miss our dream talks. As long as I can remember, you dreamed of opening teenage and adult group homes, and I dreamt of a dance studio. We both considered or attempted taking the plunge many times to no avail, but the grief of your transition has ignited a fire under me that I can’t explain. An urgency that feels as if I have no choice but to fulfill my dreams. Every time self-doubt rises, I see you in that coffin or it being lowered into the ground. Two scenes I never wanted to see, and now can never unsee. A morbid reminder that you can’t fulfill your dream anymore. So, I must launch mine. If not for me, then to honor you.
That’s why I moved back home. Yes, to start over after a grueling two years, but more importantly, to launch the dance studio. For whatever reason, it didn’t feel aligned in Atlanta. This is the birthplace of my artistry and dream of my studio. It had to be here. So here I am, looking at commercial real estate and writing business plans. Wild right?
I took the plunge with life coaching too. You encouraged me for years to start sharing my wisdom, spiritual gifts, testimony, and mentorship to help more people, but self-doubt succeeded. Not this time. Anytime it tries, something inside won’t let me rest.
I will do it this time, for you Nenna. I promise.
I promise I will continue to live, a little bit more every day. I promise to face my new life head on with gratitude and a sense of adventure. Again, if not for me, then to honor you. Be the wind beneath my wings sissy!
And I’ve got Coco… we’re taking good care of each other.
I’ve often been guided to tell clients and mentees to connect with loved ones that have transitioned through writing them a letter, but I think this is the first time I’ve been led to do it. It was the first thing I was guided to do today, so I followed the prompting, and I’m very glad I did. Although, I still feel sadness and grief, writing this letter and allowing myself to feel my feelings fully (something I also tell clients) helped me release heaviness through my words and tears rather than swallow or suppress it. Something you and I also talked about it all the time. Thank you for the reminder Nenna, I do feel better. I love you.
