SEPTEMBER 8, 2026: “The Legacy Tour!” …
Tag: Family Love
JULY 22, 2026: “A Few Good Men!” …
Few are the men I could honestly say are or were truly good men. My paternal Grandfather and his namesake, my cousin Ernie (better known to me and all as “The General“), top the list of the fewer than two handfuls I’ve kept in that category for years:
His father, Ernie, was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. He was loving and kind, caring and thoughtful, and all about his family. The man was a saint by even the harshest standards, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a single shortcoming in his character. In the 18 years I knew him, I never once heard him raise his voice or a fist, and never once heard him speak an unkind word about another. Which is not to say that he never ever said them; it’s just that if he did, he never let his impressionable grandchildren see it. To this day I smile when I remember the “worst word” I ever heard him say: “Garl darnit!” This was his version of profanity, and it took a fair amount of anger or frustration to get him there. My Grandpa was the polar opposite of any man I’d ever known until the day I met my late husband, but I’ll get to that much later. Suffice it to say, my beautiful Grandpa was and remains one of the brightest stars that has led my pathway from the sky. His legacy is one of love and kindness, and the memories he left are unsoiled in my mind. Of course, he was but a mortal man, and with that, it’s certain that like all of us, he’d had his moments, grievances, “grudges,” and maybe even “yelling, screaming and profanity.” As any good man and father should have, however, he was wise enough to shield the younger eyes that were watching and ears that were listening from anything less than impeccable words. Little did I know that he’d set the bar by which I’d judge all men impossibly high, and that it would be years before I understood why.
(“Phoenix Rising“)
Meanwhile … CUE the arrival of my “number Five” kid, the young man who’s captured my daughter’s heart and made it to the very top of my list. For reasons I can’t really say, it became clear to me fairly early in their relationship that he … is … THE ONE FOR HER! [SEE ALSO :: “The Day Of The Lululemon Zippy Jacket” … a story that shall remain between Abd, my daughter, and me.]
And so, with that, I would like to wish my “Number Five” child (in order of appearance in my atmosphere) a very Happy 23rd Birthday today! Abdil-Rhaman, there are no words to express how thankful I am that you showed up for our girl at the precipice of her either “falling backwards” into the abyss of all she’d been prior to “August 31, 2023” or “pushing forward” into every beautiful thing life has in store for not just her, but me as well because of YOU. I love you, kiddo, and so would have my Grandpa! Though you’ve yet to meet The General, when that day comes, I know he’ll love you, too. With that, and in keeping with the tribute my cousin made to my Grandpa years ago, here’s my tribute to you:
A REMARKABLE MAN, MY NUMBER FIVE: As a teenager, he left behind all he knew about life back in Jordan to seek the promise of the USA. He had only his determination, integrity, and a pocket full of dreams to lean on when that plane touched American soil, but that was more than enough upon which to build a future for not just himself, but his family, which thankfully now includes not just my daughter, but all of us! Because of his example, his values and his love, I’ll get to witness my daughter living out a fairy tale that most girls will never truly know! The attached photo is of what I wish could have really happened … that is … his having gotten to hang out with my beloved Grandfather and one of my favorite humans, my cousin Ernie!
JULY 18, 2026: “When HER Seasons Change!” …
There are seasons in a mother’s life when loving her daughter means holding on, and there are seasons when it means opening her hands. Gia is standing at the edge of one of hers, and I am learning that my job is not to hand her every answer – or every wound I inherited – but to remind her what belongs to her and what never did.
May she inherit the love, the strength, the humor, the stubborn hope, and every beautiful thing that came before her. But the chains? Those end with me. My daughter gets the crown. She gets the freedom to become. And when HER seasons change, I hope she remembers that becoming is not a betrayal of who she was; it is the fulfillment of who she has always been.
APRIL 28, 2026: “With All Of Their Love … From Italy!” …
I’m OFFICIALLY a mother-in-law! So much love to my son, Christian, and his WIFE, my beautiful daughter-in-law, Alexandra! Cheers to the beginning of an extraordinary new bloom on both our family trees!
Meanwhile, a friend asked if I was even a little bit sad that they “ran away” to get married. My answer was an emphatic NO! They didn’t “run away” from anything … they ran with and to each other … as it should be and should have been all the while. Besides, every shred of my being knows that the entire collective of both our families’ “people” have been surrounding, protecting, and supporting them throughout the bittersweet journey that led them to finally saying “yes” to themselves and “NO” to everyone who tried to stand in their way.
When I close my eyes and imagine the shadows, spirits, and ancestral love pushing them forward, it reduces me to peace and bliss for them and their future. I couldn’t be any prouder of these two warriors standing together victoriously on a battlefield neither one of them ever signed up for. They will be blessed. So am I.
FEBRUARY 14, 2026: “‘Love Is’ … Not Enough!” …
To My Valentines …
Just a handful of wisdom nuggets from me to you on this day of celebrating all things LOVE! Some of these lessons I had to learn the very hard way, while others I unfortunately learned a little too late. In the meantime, as you continue growing into your futures together, remember …
If you don’t speak, resentment will. Silence and avoidance are rarely “peace” … THEY’RE POISON! Always at least try to talk things through before you close your eyes at night, because communication is the key to every relationship in this life, and without it, even the strongest of relationships can just die.
It doesn’t take rocket science for me to know that eventually you’ll all be married. Well, at least if this mother’s prayers come true. Marriage is never just “50/50,” by the way … it’s “100/100” depending on the circumstance. There’ll be days “you carry her” and days “she carries you.” That balancing act of generosity and patience is important. Don’t forget this!
Forgiveness doesn’t always erase the pain. It can, however, build trust. Sometimes you’ll forgive but never forget. Guess what? THAT’S OKAY! You’re only human, after all. Moving forward in moments like that is a choice you’ll have to make. Lower your armor and don’t become enemies.
Never stop doing all the little things for each other, because THOSE are the glue that will keep you bonded through thick and thin. And, believe it or not, it’s the little things you’ll remember the most when all is said and done.
Last but not least, yeah, love really does hurt you sometimes, and no, it really isn’t so easy to find. So, this is me hoping that all your collective searching really is over and that, win, lose, or draw, through hell or the highest of waters, you’ll always be standin’ there when the other turns around. In the meantime, I love you all to The Moon and back … and back … and back!
~ Mom
JUNE 7, 2025: “He’s Somebody’s Son!” …
For those of you who don’t already know this by now, June is “Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month.” As such, I want to touch on something yet again that I’m probably unreasonably passionate about—not just as the mother of a son, but as a widow by the suicide of a “motherless son.” Perhaps you’ve heard this beautiful Drew Baldridge song that was clearly written to honor his daughter:
“She’s somebody’s daughter. She’s somebody’s everything. She’s somebody’s little girl, even if she’s grown up and moved away. She’s somebody’s whole world. She’s somebody’s baby, and if you don’t treat her right, hers won’t be the only heart you’re breaking.”
Impeccable words, right? I’m the mother of a daughter, too, by the way, and you best believe that when her heart breaks, so does mine. I MADE IT! Meanwhile, can’t we, though? Just CAN’T WE? Can’t we PLEASE just normalize “singing” this song and its mantra in reverse:
“He’s somebody’s son. He’s somebody’s everything. He’s somebody’s little boy, even if he’s grown up and moved away. He’s somebody’s whole world. He’s somebody’s baby, and if you don’t treat him right, his won’t be the only heart you’re breaking.”
Remember … MEN HAVE FEELINGS, TOO! So, let’s just try being a little more mindful of this factually factual FACT! Now then, ladies — do me a favor and go hug the man in your life right now, please, or if the man in your life isn’t close by, just call or text him today and send him a little hug over the line. Just sayin’.
MAY 20, 2025: “The BEST Of Times!” …
For me, the train is headed to 78 Lookout Avenue in Johnston, Rhode Island, the place where I was born, at the home of my Uncle Norman and Auntie Connie, where pretty much all my “happiest childhood memories” still live. It was “the house with the slate floors and the little lawn jockey holding a lamp at the end of the driveway”! I can see it in my mind right now as if I’m pulling in for Easter dinner this second and can smell her cavattis in gravy as I’m walking over the threshold of the back kitchen door where we’d be greeted with THE biggest hug EVER from my Aunt. (“Gravy”, for all you NON goombahs reading this is what we Italians call that red, saucy stuff in jars some of you buy at the store to serve with pasta!)
They weren’t just my Godparents, but so much more than that, and it was their home where our entire family would typically gather for major events and milestones before it sadly all blew apart one sad day the summer of ’79. Their son, “My Cousin Norman,” lol, was and is still perhaps THE biggest KISS fan alive. Not only was his room—where my sister and I would often hang out when my Aunt was babysitting us—literally plastered wall to wall in KISS album covers and memorabilia, but down in the basement he’d built an actual KISS stage where he and his friends from the hood would dress up like Paul, Gene, Ace, and Peter and play concerts for all us cousins in the audience!
It’s been almost 15 years since the last time I went back to Providence when Zack and I were on our honeymoon, actually, but every single time I do go home, I always make sure to drive by their old house … and? I CRY MY FUCKING EYES OUT! You know me, right? I’m nothing if not a pile of nostalgia and emotions (topped with a heaping serving of F-BOMBS)! Good times! No. The BEST of times!
So, where’s the train dropping YOU? Tell me in the comments!
MAY 12, 2025: “My May Crowning’! …
One of the gifts I received from my sister yesterday was this stained-glass window ornament that says, “Happiness gives our hearts wings. Love sets them soaring.” Literally nothing could be further from the truth in this moment, because I feel like I could literally fly today with my “love wings”! If only every woman in this world could be so lucky. Bye everyone, it’s me, CAT!
MAY 11, 2025: “Apples & Martyrs” …
It’s Mother’s Day, once again, and here’s to all us “She’s”:
She’s the whisper of the leaves when you walk down the street, the smell of certain foods you remember, every flower you pick, and the fragrance of life itself. She’s the hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well and your breath in the air on a winter’s day. She’s the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, and the heartbeat of Christmas morning. She’s the place you came from, your very first home, and the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space… not even death. She is always with you. She’s your Mother. She is Love.
(“She Is Love“)
Now, as regards the Jordan B. Peterson “female crucifixion” piece below, by no means am I proclaiming to be a saint or anywhere close to the mother of Jesus, but “crucified” I’ve been just the same with every breath they’ve taken, every move they’ve made since leaving the protection of my womb. Guess what, folks? I wouldn’t have had it any other way! This life that seems to be some type of martyrdom to so many others has been the highest honor, privilege, and calling of my life, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Meanwhile …
You wake up one day and you realize the person that you were meant to be is gone … you gave her up for people who don’t even see you … and there’s no time to grieve her because there’s too much damn laundry. You just wake up one day and you realize that half of you … maybe the best part of you … is dead.
NO! Just NO! I have not and will not ever allow myself to believe that a single one of my “sacrifices” has not been “seen, remembered, or appreciated” by the people closest to me, not the least of which are my babies, grown as they may now be. Besides, nothing I’ve ever been, done, or given for them has been a sacrifice. Being their mother is what I was created to be, and I don’t need a Macy’s Day Parade thrown in my honor to feel honored! Guess what, folks? I have, can, and will continue to bestow that seemingly elusive recognition upon myself like only a true queen can by continuing to walk in my “Power + Grace”! It’s who I am and what I was built for! Win, lose, or draw, it’s been a truly WONDERFUL life here for me thus far. Here’s to the next open chapters of GRAND MOTHERHOOD that are fast approaching!
FEBRUARY 14, 2025: “Love Is …” …
Thank you, Keanu, for breaking this whole “love” thing down for us on this, of all the “Love Is” days! You truly are “Love Incarnate,” and so are your beautiful words. Here’s hoping that my prayers have, as I truly believe, been answered and that both of my babies have found their forever homes in this space.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, EVERYONE!
JANUARY 11, 2025: “The Mathematics Of Faith!” …
The back story on this song is about a miscarriage my ex and I went through before I got sober. The loss of our son Jude after 7 months of pregnancy was so devastating it sent me into an alcoholic & drug spiral that lasted a year ending with an overdose and me finally getting help from 12 step anonymous programs. For many years I carried the guilt and remorse wondering if I had done thing differently would the outcome had changed. Eventually through recovery and therapy I came to accept and make peace with the loss. Many times when late term miscarriages occur we rightfully attend to the mothers & pour over them all the compassion and care we have to offer. My story is one of the devastated father. The men who lose their son’s & daughters before they ever get to know them. My prayers are with anyone who is has or will experience this soul crushing loss. It does gets better. When we share our pain we divide it. When we share our joy it multiplies.
(Tommy Vext)
Indeed, it’s true, my dear Tommy V, that when we share our pain, we divide it, and when we share our joy, we multiply it:
Ten minutes later, and not less than two minutes before I delivered her, my mother found her way to my room. There she stood holding my right hand, while Pete was holding my left, when Gina Marie, our precious baby girl graced us with her brief but powerful presence. She was 9 inches long and weighed just over a pound. The few hours she lived were the longest of my life, and there are no words to describe my anguish. The baby I had prayed desperately for on my literal hands and knees had been cruelly ripped from my womb and now I held her broken little body in my arms. She kept trying to hold on to my finger, but her tiny hand was too small to grasp it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I helplessly watched her gasping for air and struggling to live, then watched her take her very last breath. I struggled for so long to find a single good thing that came from all that heartache and trauma, as it is something I will truly never understand, but what I can tell you is that there in that otherwise frigid hospital room, racked with grief and agony in my very darkest of hours, I had never felt so truly loved. How blessed was I to be surrounded by all the people I loved and cared for the most and who loved me in all the best ways they knew how? My husband, who after all he went through to bring that little girl into my life, and who despite my best efforts to push him away never once in our lifetime together at that point had ever physically left my side. My father, who despite his shortcomings, seemed to love me in the best way he knew how, and despite our many battles, I know would have traded his life for my daughter’s in that moment. My sister and one true and unconditional rock, there at the foot of my bed on her hands and knees sobbing inconsolably for the indescribable pain that I was in, that if she could have, I know she would have taken from me. And, of course, my beautiful mother who has loved me all the days of my life and I was blessed to have standing beside me when each of my children came into this world, and then again when one of them left it.
(“Hello, Goodbye“)
So, here’s me doing some nonsensical calculations of the soul by sharing, dividing, and multiplying one of my most bittersweet, twisted, and beautiful boxes of pain from 21 years ago today:
It’s called “The Mathematics Of Faith”, and it’s factored by strength, fortitude, and resilience … the total sum of which is always “LOVE” … be it love for one another or the love we’re commanded to have for ourselves by the God that gifted us to one another in the first place, no matter how short or long our seasons. Perhaps the best part of this ‘lil quotient is that you don’t have to be a genius to figure it out! As a matter of fact, as far as faith and most matters of the heart are concerned, the deafer and dumber you are, the better!
Fast-forward to today and everything I’m feeling as I revel in the victory of powering through what would have been her 21st birthday had she not moved on to The Brighter Side Of Grey so quickly. Grieving not just my tiny angel, but my husband and so many others I’ve lost along the way has been difficult, of course, but even more than that, it has been the utmost and highest privilege of my life. Why is that, you ask? Because it means I “got” to love them in the first place. Their deaths remain “nothing at all“.
My prayer for all of you beautiful warriors out there is to keep on carrying on and let nothing and no one take that crown from your head or steal your faith. As for me? Although losing a child of my own flesh and blood (no matter her age or how fleeting the hours I had with her) is something I would never wish upon another parent, what I can tell you is this …
You have to let go of the need for black and white proof, walk through all the grey and fear blindly, and trust the process. It’s scary, I know, but the fruits of the immense amount of courage it takes to stop trying to make sense of certain things are infinite. I PROMISE!
NOVEMBER 4, 2024: “The Sorority House That Built Us” …
A pluviophile is a person who enjoys rain and rainy days, and is fascinated by the sights and sounds of rain. Pluviophiles may find joy and peace of mind during rainy days, and may enjoy being outside regardless of the weather. They may also find comfort in listening to the rain hitting a window ledge, or enjoy the scent of rain on a road or freshly cut grass.
(Google Search)
… and so, I wrote to her. My “sibling,” whom I do not know, in this sisterhood of the most twisted, tragic, bittersweet, and almost ethereal bullshit sororities of all called “SHATTERED CHILDHOOD“:
Dear Jessica,
My heart is in pieces for you. So, I’m what some people call a “pluviophile”, a person who revels in rainy, stormy, gloomy weather, and it IS literally like some twisted Heaven here in Dallas for me, right now with the skies in the full bloom of every shade of grey. I have long believed that the reason I feel most comfortable and “at home” this way is because it’s the sky’s way of helping me peacefully grieve for not just my “childhood”, but for EVERY other one of us (especially mothers) who are walking around with smiles on our faces despite it all, because not only do we “know what we know”, but we “KNOW what we know” and feel it for every broken child who does now or ever has existed. I’m hearing “The Irrepressible Shirt” right now. It’s my rain song. Much love to you, my friend. This is an awful, twisted, but also kind of beautiful sisterhood, is it not?
As for me and the rest of this awfully beautiful day? I’ll remain steadfast in my charge of riding headfirst into every storm, because my babies and their babies are all counting on me to not only be their “home” for eternity, but even more so to show them how to plant roots so deep within themselves that they’ll never have to live in a sorority house.
AUGUST 31, 2024: “In A Photograph” …
One year ago tonight, right around the time this is being posted, two unsuspecting stars crossed paths, and thus began the story of my “Three & Five.” Meanwhile, earlier this week, while I was scrolling around on social media, I ran across these most impeccable words of a stranger about “a photograph”:
I hate to say this, but most women will go their entire lifetime and never experience the meaning of actual true love. It’s even slightly depressing to think that most people will never understand how powerful this picture actually is. This gentleman is a prime example of how men should be treating their partner with everyday that passes. We unfortunately live in a generation with men who have no idea what it takes to be a real man. Let me give you a couple examples of a real man … A real man asks about your day and genuinely cares about the answer. A real man respects your boundaries and never forces you to anything you’re not ready to do. He makes time for you, and takes that time to learn and understand who you are as a person. A real man consistently shows you the definition of effort with every day that passes. He will call you randomly throughout the day just to check on you and your mental health. A real man is undeniably committed to you and looks for new ways to fall in love with you with every day that passes. He makes protecting your heart a number one priority. A real man never makes permanent decisions based on temporary emotions. He never confuses you on where you stand in his life. A real man apologizes when he is wrong and stays true to his character. He doesn’t mind hurting other people’s feeling to protect yours. A real man gives you affection without sexual expectation. A real man refuses to entertain any women that isn’t you. He has genuine intentions with you from day one and shows you how it truly feels to be a priority rather an option. A real man will help you heal from the trauma that nobody apologized for. A real man values you and would never put themselves in a position to lose you. Take my advice and wait for the man that never let’s you fall asleep at night questioning your own self worth.
(Credit To “Cody Bret“)
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY,
THREE AND FIVE!
I love you both so much, and believe it or not, this gets to be a special day for me, as well. Abd, you are one of the best things that have ever happened to this crazy family of ours, and we’re so lucky that you haven’t run away screaming by now! Thank you so much not only for loving my daughter but, more so than that, for being “the real and gentle man” who is pictured in the words above. Only God knows what’s in store for both your futures and whether they’re meant to be side by side for the long haul, but for now, just enjoy this season, long as it will hopefully be. Although it is true that loving really can hurt sometimes, it’s the only thing worth really knowing. When it gets hard (and it will get hard sometimes), love is the only thing that can make you alive.
So, keep your sweet love in photographs, kids, and make memories where your eyes are never closed, hearts are never broken, and time’s forever frozen still. No matter what anyone in this world has ever shown or told you before, I am here to tell you that loving really is the only thing that can truly mend your soul. It’s the only thing I know, and ya, hmm, it’s the only thing we’ll be able to take with us when we die.
FEBRUARY 5, 2011: “Dancing With Cinderella” …
HOW DID WE GET SO LUCKY?
There’s a ball at the castle and she’s been invited, so they have to practice their dancing!
While Cinderella was brimming with excitement as she was preparing for the ball, I’m not gonna lie: this may have been one of the best nights of my life as well! Just as sure as the Sun will go down this evening and then rise again tomorrow, every girl knows that some of the best things she’ll ever own are her memories of “dancing with daddy.” Some girls also know that some of the most painful things they’ll ever own are their memories of not ever “dancing with daddy.”
Although we’re only getting started, I am here to tell you now that he’s already setting that bar SO high that her standards will be next to impossible to meet. Yes, indeed, we are two very lucky girls, and I will cherish “their first dance” forever!
As an aside, I’d be remiss not to mention that our Cinderella has had two princes take her to The Castles in this lifetime. How cool is THAT?
