Thanksgiving.

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Special thanks to Maxine the Nissan Maxima, the George family, and the "great" state of NJ for a wonderful 8 days.

Summing Up the Holiday...

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A Stranger in My Parent's House

“I am my mother’s daughter.”

This is the statement that I would most likely use when asked to describe myself. I took joy in always being referred collectively with my family. In being known by my last, and not my first, name. I naturally adopted my family’s principles and their characteristics. Their mannerisms are slowly starting to show on my face. But instead of smiling slightly while connecting the dots…I frown. It isn’t that my family is extraordinarily dysfunctional or that I would openly deny my blood-laced ties to them….but…

…I am not a little girl anymore. Looking into the mirror I see my mother’s high cheeks and nose; my father’s full lips and chin…and the eyes of a pleasant stranger... Who is this woman?

Currently, I am growing fonder of the idea of a life out on my own. Establishing a peace of mind that is significantly unique. Distinct and God-given directly to me. My parents throw themselves at me when I am home from school during vacation, but are rarely interested in the evolving young woman who meets them at the door.

“I know you too well, girl.” My mother says. Our constant arguments should only reveal to her how limited her knowledge of me is…She knows me. She made me. She loves me. But…she does not know me.

Granted, there are ways about me that are central, and will not change drastically. But, everyday that I spend with myself is a day that I learn something new. I have interests and pursuits that have recently been awakened that she doesn’t understand.

My love for jazz & my desire to travel. It was only a few years ago that I only loved R&B and was a homebody. Quite the contrast, right?

My mother has my past. And will, forever and always…

But my present is building and my future is vast and wide-open. Above/around me is a God who alone is omniscient (all-knowing). My parents are responsible for the person that I am today. They were entrusted with the great task of teaching me foundational truths. Truth concerning God. Truth concerning Love. Truth concerning right and wrong. How to treat people. Manners. Keeping your word. Putting others first…and above all…God. Standing up for what is noble and pure. Speaking up AND holding your tongue (having the wisdom to know when each is appropriate).

They have taught me these things. Therefore, I owe them so much. According to God, I owe them my honor. How? Through how I live my life. Will I continue in the things that they have taught me? I intend to…with all my might.

But that is simply the foundation. What is built on top of that is of God’s (my) choosing. And I must have faith in God and courage within myself to build. And this house…will look unlike anything that my family has seen in their lifetimes combined. Or I.

It has to be different….There has to be more….

The.Reason.

...it was one of those days.

At times, I can have conversations about him with my mom, where we laugh about the person he was. We remember how perfect his smile was, or how he could walk in the pouring rain and would never get a single drop on his suede Timberland boots. I remember how his shoulders shook when he laughed. Most days, I can think of him, and not feel a stab in my chest. This painful realization that he has physically missed so much of my life.
...but today...was one of those days.

Granted, I have been able to walk around with some joy today. But I just wish I could talk to him. I wish he could stand in front of me and trip about how tall I've gotten, or smile at the young woman I am becoming. I want him to tell me that no guy would ever be good enough for me. I want him to slip me $20. I want him to hug me on my wedding day and play with my children. I want my kids to be able to say that "Uncle Mike" is their absolute favorite uncle. I will never have that.

And sometimes, even after 9 years, I still feel his void. I am complete in Christ, yes, but if you could look around my heart, you would see an empty chair with his name on it.

And I know that God's plan is perfect. I know that my brother is in a better place. I know that I will see him again someday. But days like this still happen. And I battle jealousy and anger each time I hear my roommate get so easily annoyed at her older brother for calling...just to chat with her. What a huge blessing in such a small gesture.

But the silver lining appears to me around this time of the day. First off, I can hear pride & joy, not grief, when my mother speaks of him. Each time my family gathers together, we talk about him as if he is only away at college. Not to mention, each time I see my nephew, I see a promise that my brother made.

Secondly, my brother, Michael, is, what I like to call...The.Reason...

(2005)

Your smile

Was

My melody

My lyric

My expression

But the day

You ceased

Smiling

I lost my song…

Full of

Emotions

Words

Jargons

With no one around

But my notebook

And his companion…

My pencil

So…

We three became

Acquainted

And soon

Started a love affair

A threesome

In which I

Consistently mourn your absence

Yet rejoice in your eternal rest

If you

Left no

Unspoken void in me

I would have

Ignored

them

Thank You.

We miss you. I miss you.
Love,
Your little sis Britt

Something I Tend to Forget...

I was really upset at my mother. Or at her ability to ruin my excitement for things. I didn't want to think anything through for once. I didn't want to plan ahead or iron out any details.

I just wanted to go.

And I felt completely justified in my discontent with my relationship with my parents...

...that is until 2:08 am this morning. A close friend of mine, whom I also consider to be like a little sister, gently shook me awake. She told me, holding back tears, that a girl on our hall (whom we both know very well) had just lost her mother in a tragic car accident just an hour or so before. A bit shocked and disoriented, I followed my friend through my dark dorm room and out into the hallway, where at least a dozen of my other dorm-mates were standing; praying.

For what seemed like hours, we all stood...or sat...out in the hallway, grieving along with her. My RAs were on the phone with her family members, making arrangements and spoke on behalf of my grieving sister, who could do nothing but lay in the floor and cry. It was announced, eventually, that an RA, accompanied by another girl on the hall, would take her home (which was over an hour away). Looking up as she walked out into the hallway, I met her eyes. And that moment changed my whole perspective that I had been previously, if only temporarily, carrying.
I know what it's like to lose someone so abruptly. After the death of my older brother back in 1999, I promised myself that I wouldn't take my family for granted. I wouldn't sacrifice the love of my family to serve my own purpose. Somehow, for a split second, I had forgotten the promise I had made.

I am so blessed. My parents, more specifically my mother, love me very much.

So, I say to you: take no one dear to you for granted. Because you have no idea if they will be here long enough for you to apologize.