It is November 22, 2024; just past 2 AM. It is Juju’s birthday. We were not supposed to be here.
Last year, on her birthday, Juju was pregnant, and we couldn’t travel because she was high-risk. We made plans with Quentin, my son, her brother, to go to Kentucky to celebrate; his birthday was on the 20th. Emrys would be six months old, and I would be with him, while the kids celebrated. After that, my parents, and brother, were supposed to go so that we could celebrate my mom’s birthday on the 25th, and have a family dinner on Thanksgiving. We would be thankful for the Little Dude that mended the gap that separated my mom and I. That Little Dude was able to heal what time couldn’t touch. He was, and still is, a True Blessing. A DIVINE GIFT.
And here we are - still recovering - still being kept silent. Justice does not come quickly for those who suffer. It likes to take its sweet time. The once who cause harm rejoice, while the ones whom they have harmed suffer in silence, because it has been almost six months, and there are some who believe that we should have already been over it. My question is, “How do you get over it when it has been proven that Emrys would still be here if they would have listened to us?”
So many plans that were made just crumbling around us. Some would say that we could easily make other plans. We could, but they would never be made with as much excitement as the ones that were made last year.
Last year, I bought Juju a flower cupcake, and we picked up her WIC.
