The road trip that changed it all
Part One
pictured: my mama
As far as I can go back in my memory, I have always wanted to be a singer. I saw myself up on a big stage singing my heart out in-front of a huge audience. I honestly never saw myself playing instruments. I dabbled when I was younger with a few keyboard lessons but quickly gave up. I loved to write and make up random songs, but never consistently. Funny how some things change and how some things don’t. I dabbled with instruments for years before they eventually stuck. The point is, I’m glad I kept trying. One day it stuck. Little did I know at that a lot of loss would be the catalyst.
I grew up watching my mom sing. She was beautiful, talented, and funny. She could act, sing, play guitar & piano, paint, draw, and could make a house feel like a home. She would bathe you in love and encouragement, and then the bottom would drop-out. I never doubted my moms love for me. Even at her weakest, I knew she loved me and my siblings. It was the choices she made that we all didn’t love, including herself. At some point my brain started equating music to pain. I hid from it for years. Dabbled then hid. Dabbled then doubted my self. Dabbled then hid again.
My aunts were always coming to clean up my moms mess and get us back on track. Especially my Aunt Karen. She stepped in when my mother couldn’t and gave us guidance, and love. She did more than shower us with love and gifts. She showed us endurance through the storms of life. They come often, strong and unannounced. She was a life boat for me more times than I can mention. I am a product of her love, strength, and encouragement.
Pictured: Aunt Karen (L) & Aunt Bev (R)
One day I was talking with my Aunt Karen and she didn’t sound right. Her humor and strength were drained out of her. On the other end of the phone was a scared woman who didn’t know what to do. Her husband only had a little while left to live and he wanted to be home in the last days. At the time, I wasn’t performing anywhere professionally. I was bartering piano lessons for house cleanings, and could play 2 chords on guitar. It was the end of February in 2019. I didn’t drive on the interstate or take trips anywhere alone. I was still terrified of life and putting myself out there. But my mouth said, “I will be there tomorrow to help you” She lived about an hour North East of Atlanta, Georgia. A good 6 1/2 hours from me. First thing next morning I was packed and on the road.
With only 3 miles of the interstate behind me, a seat flew off the boat being towed in front of me. Swerving to miss it, I thought to myself, clearly I’m not supposed to be here. But I kept going and 7 hours later I was at my Aunt Karen’s house. The next four days were intense. I had the honor of being there for my aunt, just like she was for me so many times before and would be there again, and again. I was sleeping on the couch the morning my uncle passed. I remember dreaming that he got out of bed, whispered something to me (of which I can’t not for the life of me remember, but it was something that brought me peace) I woke up to see my aunt reading a birthday card from her stepson, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was her birthday. I looked at her, and then my uncle. He was gone.
I drove home in silence the next day. The following days were a haze. I was decompressing and feeling completely lost. A week later I got the call that my mom had passed away. Using the word shock feels like a huge understatement. I had just talked to her on the phone. It was so sudden. And it took me down. It would be a long while before I would be able to regain balance. My aunt was planning her husbands funeral and in the midst of it all looses her sister. My siblings and I came together at an airbnb near where our mom lived in Florida. It was an absolutely gorgeous place on a farm that hosted events. When we checked in, we discovered that the code was her birthdate. That, my friends, is a hug from heaven. My siblings and I had a great visit. I still think about that place fondly. We talked about going back again and having a little reunion there and I think it’s time.
Pictured: Siblings at the Rental
Prior to my mom's death, my aunt asked me if I would sing a couple songs at my uncles funeral. I said yes and in light of my moms passing she knew that it would be too much to go through with. However, I had to do it. I was singing for two people now. In the span of two weeks I lost two important people in my life and bounced back and forth from Georgia and Florida trying to get a grip on my new reality. I even took a flight alone (I HATE to fly) back to Florida to resume some kind of normalcy. Life would never be the same again, but one thing I knew for certain. I wasn’t going to run anymore. I wasn’t going to dabble anymore. I would not be passing away with any regrets. I had a love for music, a little direction, but a lot of passion and I was all in!