When I close my eyes and concentrate, I can feel myself slipping back to that hot summer day. I can feel the coarse sand between my toes and I can smell the salty waves of Virginia Beach’s coastline. I remember only being a little over 3 feet tall and ridiculously skinny, so tiny I would literally blow away if the wind's gusts were too strong. I remember the sun being so bright that I could barely look up at all without my eyes stinging and tears streaming down my face...
Empathy is so important to human life. Judgement not so much. There is so much judgment in the world, especially on online articles. These articles can be from anywhere in the world, and because we are anonymous online, most of us become keyboard warriors. These keyboard warriors can fight for the right reasons, or they can fight for the wrong reasons. The ones that fight for the wrong reasons are usually trolls. Judgement on online articles attracts both type of warriors. They also attract one more: the everyday browser. These browsers have the option to think with empathy or judgement. They have the tendency to judge someone based on one article. This is wrong, in many instances. I know what its like to be on the receiving end of that misplaced judgement.
I tipped my head back as I managed to swallow the last few dregs left of my lukewarm coffee. Olivia was on autopilot talking about her last exam.
2/27/19 was one of the hardest days having to say our goodbyes to our third baby. He was expected to arrive to this world on July 12th, 2019 but instead he arrived February 27th, 4:30PM. His name is Shane.
Her day had been a definite eight out of ten on the bad scale of long and taxing ones. To begin with, it started way too early; even earlier than her usual four am workday alarm. It had started with a phone call from the nursing home around three thirty from a familiar and panicked voice on the other end complaining that “the nurses aren’t giving me my medicines and they won’t give me any coffee.” As the seasoned nursing professor sat up in bed and listened to her mother, there was no being worked up in emotions, as she had run interference many times before. The difficult part was calming and appeasing her cherished, yet very stubborn parent. The staff would listen and follow any suggestions she would give them, not only because they knew her so well, but because she had been a clinical coach in college to many of them. Her mother would get a cup of coffee.Having put that small fire out, coffee didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Besides, her cat was insisting on being fed and the two dogs needed to go outside. She remembered she would need to dry her uniform to make sure it was fluffed out of any wrinkles. “Ah, another day,” she thought, as her morning routines began. By this time her mind had fast-forwarded to the plans she had for her students at the clinical facility where they were training.
Sometimes we're unable to find the justice in the injustice, from the court. To prove what is right and wrong sometimes we might wait forever. That was the case with Bella. Some of you might know Isabella, Some of you may be Isabella! Wife of Joseph Irish Kimberly at Hollywood hills.
What does tomorrow bring? I thought to myself as I realized my mother was gone. Gone? Yeap gone. Never to exist except for in my memories and silly reminders. Like her favorite tv shows “Ellen” and “Steve Harvey”. To be honest I’m not sure if she would have been on this earth as long as she was without those two shows after being diagnosed. They kept her laughing, smiling, and breathing through it all. So, what does tomorrow bring? I’m not sure. I sat there in disbelief. Blanket draped over my shoulders. I never felt so cold and vulnerable. It was done. She left. I knew cancer had not taken her from me but rather a decision she made. A part of me felt relieved, it had been a grueling 11 months. I was tired, she was tired, we all were tired. But what does tomorrow bring for me? What lies ahead? I am motherless.
Grief, Fear, Love and Meanness
First off, hello, my name is Haven. I’m from NY, not the city. This tattoo tale is one of many things that broke me, and taught me to rise from the ashes as a better more compassionate version of myself. This story is hundred percent based on my life experience from this past May.
"Jillian, it's me. I have cancer," The raspy tired voice floated through the receiving end of my phone.
This is the first time I have written about my tattoos.