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Celebration, 2019, Communication, Death, Family, Friendship, Emotional Health, Grief, Life, Love, Relationships

Funerals: A Display of Love or Regret???

I returned to my thoughts from the funeral I attended days before. Why are we more compelled to spend time celebrating a persons shell rather than the actual living person? How are we showing up in the lives of people we say we love while they are still living?

I guess I just want us all to think about the cost of being too busy. Too busy for a phone call, too busy to visit, too busy to have lunch, too busy to sit a while longer, too busy, too busy, too busy…  

KD Bowe, an Atlanta radio personality made a Facebook post, on 1.24.13 following the death of his mother. I will never forget his words. It reads in part:

“At this stage in my life, I just stay busy. The ironic thing is I did in death what I could never seem to find time to do in life … I made time to come home for a week.”

I imagine his mom would have preferred he come home for a week while she wasn’t laying in a casket… he clearly does too. This is no indictment on KD Bowe. No shame. No guilt. He is living his choices. Still, it begs the question…

Why do we make time for dead people and excuses for the living?

2018, Children, Communication, Death, Fear, Grief, Identity, Life, Love, Mental Health, Parenting, Relationships, Self-Care

Boys Who Do Not Cry Become Emotionally Constipated Men

I was pretty rough and tumble as a child. I played with my brother and his friends all the time and wore my tomboy title like a badge of honor. I even earned a few bumps and bruises along the way. So, the scab didn’t concern me at all. I'm not a free range parent, but I'm also miles away from helicopter parenting. I mostly let children being children. They run, they play, they fall. The end.

My boy was up in his Nana's lap when she noticed the atrocity on his knee."What happened to my baby’s knee!?!” If your children have a Nana like my children; you know she acted like the boy had staples in his knee. She was appalled. So, I quickly told her what happened according to his father who was his caretaker at the time in question *snicker. At the end of my explanation, I gratuitously added, “And he didn’t even cry.” *insert my proud face