Experience! Experience it all! I found a risk worth taking. Right or wrong, it’s my line to cross! Experience! Experience it all! I found a life worth living. I want to feel alive. I want to do more than just survive!
(Trapt)
Have I kinda, sorta stopped following this influencer? Yes. Yes, I have, because at least for the time being, I’m pissed off at him for some things I don’t really care to dig into here, especially given that because I don’t know him personally, I can’t really pass judgment on the rumblings I’ve heard in “the tribe”. Does that mean that the vast majority of words he’s spoken were wrong? No, it doesn’t … because he’s right! Are YOU experiencing it ALL, “all in”?
On this day fourteen years ago, Linkin Park released what I believe is their most powerful song of all. “Wretches & Kings” is about rising up against those who would abuse their positions of power, and while of course we’ve theoretically moved past the counterculture of the 60’s and 70’s, to me, the song is still very much relevant today. It begins with the soundbite of U.S. educator and Free Speech activist, Mario Savio, making his famous “Bodies Against The Gears” speech on December 2, 1964. In keeping with the spirit of “rebelling against authority”, earlier this year, an influencer I used to follow made a post on his social media about some veterans who’d evidently been giving him shit and got their raisins in a bunch because,
Why are you training if you’re not in the military or preparing for a war?
… and by “training”, that meant with weaponry. Umm, HELLO? Have you seen our world today? Are we not all “to each his OWN” soldiers on this battlefield of simply existing who should be packing, prepared, and TRAINING like the zombie apocalypse really is gonna be here next weekend?
Look at this video of my “Rambo Barbie” daughter. She’s a size 4 little girl who dresses up REAL nice when it’s time to go to the dance, but has otherwise been TRAINING for a while now. Meanwhile, her brother, my 31 year old, has his FFL and builds, sells, trades, refurbs, and TRAINS with them, too, because even though he also isn’t a soldier, like us, he lives in a world chock full of bat shit fucking crazies who will one day make fodder of those who are not TRAINING!
At the end of the day, this widowed single momma’s baby girl ain’t flying the coop without her CDL, plenty of “packages”, and the TRAINING to put them to use God forbid the unthinkable comes to her doorstep. You best believe that no one will come for her or hers without her at least trying to defend herself and her domain! SO? “Train THAT!” all you veterans or anyone who has a problem with people who have “no business” TRAINING for war!
By the way, can I just say that one hasn’t lived until they’ve watched a gun range full of grown men with their mouths on the floor as what appears to be a silly teenage girl makes smiley faces on the mug of the paper guy at the end of her lane! She’s GOOD I’m tellin’ ya, and should probably be shooting competitively. Time will tell, but as for now, her only “competition” is anyone who doesn’t get the cryptic message in Chester’s words:
To save face, how low can you go? Talk a lotta game, but yet you don’t know. Static on the wind makes us all say WHOAH! The people up top push the people down low. GET DOWN and obey every word. Steady get in line if you haven’t yet heard! Wanna take what I got? DON’T BE ABSURD!
The bottom line is THIS:
I’m raising a Rambo Barbie QUEEN, not some pretty but clueless WRETCH! So, yes, she’s gonna be packin’ and prepared for any and all unforeseen absurdity! So, to anyone out there who would critique someone for the “nonsense” of training for an imaginary battle they think is never gonna happen, let’s just see whose running towards all the doomsday preppers and the Mad Max Barbie’s they’re turning out for help when the shit hits the fan someday and the guns really are unloading! Imagine having to hide behind a girl because you were too foolish not to be preparing to protect your raisins! I’m actually picturing it in my mind right now and it’s EPIC!
Oh, and one last thing to any veterans out there reading this. I mean no disrespect here and neither me or my kids would ever tried to “steal valor”. We’re just trying to stay ready to be ready for the zombie apocalypse when it finally gets here, lol, which (ps) I sure as hell hope is not next weekend!
No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.
~ Seneca ~
⚔️
Adversity
Challenge
Abrasion
Grating
Rasping
Grating
Chafing
Resistance
Pressure
FRICTION
⚔️
Guess what has to happen in order for you to grow, people? FRICTION! No matter what you call all the little cluster fucks that happen in your life, they are happening to make you stronger, better fortified, and more resilient! With that, and since I was originally going to date this post for “the day” between “National Diamond Day” and “National Sword Day”, but couldn’t find find a date for either, here I am ROCKING this on “National JEWEL Day” today, instead! Lol. Didja catch that? “Rock”! Yes, that pun was intended!
Meanwhile, let’s take a minute to think about all the shit that’s gone wrong for you. Chances are you either learned, changed, fixed, developed, or maybe even LOST something that’s given you an entire new perspective, set of skills, and better yet … APPRECIATION for what you DO have as a result.
It’s we been statistically proven since the dawn of mankind that those who’ve endured extreme amounts of friction in their life are happier, more fulfilled, and at peace. I mean, HELLO? Have you MET me? I’m a 100 carat, D-Flawless diamond of epic proportion with light literally SCREAMING through every facet etched into my soul while I was CARBON being crystallized by pressure, heat, and FRICTION!
Being a piece of coal subjected to unfathomable pressure and temperatures for upwards of 3 billion years is hard, but not becoming the diamond you were intended to become, is an actual living tragedy. DO THE HARD STUFF MY FRIENDS, because sometimes the easy way out can actually cost you EVERYTHING! Hmm. Now that I think of it, maybe this is why I’ve always been FASCINATED by diamonds. They’re tactile proof that behind most every beautiful thing were unspeakable amounts of pain, pressure, and toil. As it turns out, I was a fuckin’ 5 carat, D-color, FLAWLESS and PRICELESS solitaire all along, it just took me a long HOT minute to figure it out!
Lol. Why do you think I love my diamonds so much? (HINT: It’s NOT because I’m trying to flaunt my wealth!) I have adored them since I was just a little girl with no idea of their value, literally or metaphorically, and been wearing the ever loving SHINE out of them even when I was sleeping on a pull out in a one bedroom with my Frog Prince of a husband who eventually had me dripping in them.
Oh, yah! That picture there at left? No, that’s not my diamond, but it is a picture of a ring I’d found in a magazine ad once upon a time when the king and I were waiting in a doctor’s office. It wasn’t until years later, the day after he was gone, that I found it while going through his wallet. It was taped it to the back of his Social Security card as a reference until the day would eventually came when he could have one just like it made for me and slap it on my finger. BAM! “My Big Mac!” Yes, I’m proud of it, and nope, I’ll never stop wearing it until the day Gia’s future husband comes calling for her hand and it passes to her in legacy.
Whenever I see a diamond, be it “dust sized” or the nearly flawless one he frosted me with that I’ll never stop wearing (even when I’m in public in my dumpster dive clothes and plastic crowns) I see MYSELF: Power and grace in risen “shine” built from one of the most resilient substances on this Earth: FRICTION!
I walked into a local car wash I’ve been patroning for 25 years today. Keep in mind that my sole purpose for even leaving my house in the first place was to go the car wash then Hobby Lobby for the supplies I needed to make the annual Christmas basket I’ll take to the cemetery in the morning for my daughter. I was in a happy, contemplative, and reflective headspace, because having the strength and resilience to bring flowers to my dead child’s grave as often as I do with peace and joy in my heart and not sadness and bitterness is something I’m very thankful for.
Meanwhile, the little bitch who’s been working their register for five or six years and always gives me an attitude no matter how much I try killing her with kindness saw the “Lions Den Live” shirt I was wearing:
“Oh, now it all makes sense,” she said.
“What makes sense,” I asked.
“The Lions Not Sheep people … they all think they’re better than everyone else.”
REALLY?
That’s when Satan jumped IN my actual ass, crawled up my spine, then expelled himself out of my mouth in an abysmal and very public display of vile. Am I disappointed in myself for just handing her my cards and giving her the upper hand? Umm, YAH! I mean, I’m a human, not a machine. Have I gotten over it and forgiven both her and myself? Yes, I have.
You know, I’ve been asked a couple times why I always write “power and grace” and “love and respect” … It takes two things to make it in this world: Power and grace. Being powerful enough to project and to be assertive and stand for what you stand for, but have it be graceful at the same time, and having gratitude for those that, you know, come in contact with you, and so on and so forth. Love and respect, he said, was the second half of that, because to have power, you have to show those two things ~ love and respect. To have grace, you have to own both of those things ~ love and respect.
At the end of the day, while I was, indeed, powerful in my assertiveness and standing for what I stand for, I wasn’t at all graceful, loving, or respectful towards those I came in contact with. For that reason, I’ve spent a fair amount of time since then straightening my crooked crown, having a come to Jesus with myself, and recalling messages from my favorite battle anthems as well the voices of my ancestors and Earthen scions. I needed to remind myself that I’m SO much better than the way I behaved.
I’d like to think that if one of my ancestors was standing behind me in that lobby today, they’d have pulled me aside afterwards for a cigarette, a light, and a ‘lil chat that would have prolly gone something like this:
If you’re gonna play the game, girl, you gotta remember to play it right! You already know how to hold ’em, you’ve had to learn the hard way when to fold ’em, but now we just needa work on that “knowing when it’s time to walk away” piece. Umm, hello? Don’t you know who you are? You know damn good and well by now that THE secret to survivin’ is in the art of all the SILENT wars and never countin’ all that money when you’re either sittin’ or standin’ in front of the table!
By the way, if my husband’s ghost was standing behind me today watching all that shit go down, let me tell you that boy must have wanted to kick my ass! Had he been alive still today and standing there with me, he would have kicked my ass, been rightfully disappointed in if not ashamed of me, and would have read me a whole new kinda riot act on the way home from there, if not sooner.
For the record, I’ve already ordered How To Make Shit Happen from Amazon and will most definitely be bringing both it and a “LIONS NOT SHEEP” shirt to her one day next week, at which time I’m told I’ll be getting an apology from her. Regardless of my wresting with myself over the way I was triggered today and how much of an idiot I must have looked while representing both Sean’s brand and my own small but steadily growing platform of “love and light“, no one gets to assume that I or anyone “thinks they’re better than everyone else”, which by the way, is hilarious, since as far as I’m concerned, just her thinking and saying those words out loud to a complete and total stranger, did, indeed, make me “better than her” for at least that moment.
“Good enough then. By the way, some day when I grow up, I hope I can be more like you.”
her:
“Momma, don’t grow up, it’s a trap! Now, let’s get to the barn!”
🖤
… and for those of you who’ve just now stumbled into this Diary, “The monster” is her 5.0 with a standard clutch that she’s hell bent on learning to drift one day. She changes her own oil, wants to learn how to “flip” engines from the pick and pull with her brother, the “engine Jedi“, and to the best of our knowledge is THE only person on her campus on a stick. It befuddles every boy there and some of the teachers. Actually? They’re kinda scared of her.
Meanwhile, she’s maintained an almost perfect 4.0 throughout high school, murdered her SAT without even studying, is a National Merit Scholar, a National HISPANIC Scholar, and so far has earned three major awards, not the least of which is the Presidential Merit from Texas Tech where she’s heading to this fall for her doctorate in veterinary medicine and minor in ranch management so she can “buy us all a dream farm anywhere green and pretty where we can just be happy and free” as she once said. Lol, as if that’s even necessary, since she knows damn well that she’ll never have to work a day in her life because of what Zack left behind for us and will have that dream farm once she graduates. But you see, she doesn’t want anything just handed to her. She wants to earn it for herself.
She’s also a self-taught chef, never has to be asked to help around the house, has never partaken in the typical teenage bullshit such as drugs, alcohol, or skeezing her way through the football team to be popular like some of the girls whose parents are the pillars of righteousness in our diocese. Yes, she’s attending Catholic school, but no longer practices. She respectfully declines the weekly masses, opting instead to foster her relationship with Jesus directly. I’m a fan.
Let’s see, what else? She would and has given “her last dollar” to a homeless person or anyone she perceives as hungry, and once started a holy SHIT STORM in her middle school cafeteria because a group of boys at a gender segregated table got up all at once and sat at another table when the autistic boy they loved to torture sat down with them. So? She picked up her tray, got up from her table and sat with him. When the teachers on duty tried to make her go back to the girls’ table, thus leaving him there alone, she refused:
With all due respect, I won’t just leave Alex here by himself. So, please call my parents if there’s a problem and I’m willing to be sanctioned for this.
Yah, she’s THAT girl, and no one in her halo gets left behind! Meanwhile, of course I’m proud of her, but my obnoxious bragging here isn’t for the reasons you may think. You see, my daughter was also bullied at that very same school from the second grade on by a disease-ridden band of girls in our very small private school, the leader of which was the daughter of her bio father’s girlfriend.
Nobody likes you, Gia. You’re too fat and ugly. Why don’t you just go play with that retard!
That “retard”, by the way, is the autistic kid mentioned above, one of her dearest friends to this day, and “under her protection” at the high school they both where the kids have only gotten crueler and more brazen courtesy of their parents’ “piety payments” to the school to get their names on the benefactor wall of fame and keep their darlings sanctified.
“The Squad” of girls that bullied her (yah, they even gave themselves a name, lol) did so to the point of her suicidality, which in a way was the catalyst (not the reason) for Zack’s suicide. The night he shot himself, she, too, was suicidal, and ended up having to go in patient for some time then withdrawn from that school altogether for the long term outpatient process that followed in an attempt to put her back together before high school in the aftermath of everything that happened to her during what were supposed to be the most carefree and precious years of her life. Did you catch that? I could have lost my husband and daughter to suicide on the same night.
These days, the ever growing shadow she casts in the corridors of that illustrious high school just fades all those assholes who tried to break her out like the ending to a really bad movie. They can’t even look her in the eyes because they KNOW she has something they’ll NEVER have and that SHE owns her power now, THEY DON’T! Lol. Not a single one of those bitches know who or what they are unless someone else tells them, much less what to think, do, or say. It’s laughable!
My point in this dissertation is THIS:
If you’re an adult who’s ever once doubted the power you wield within your soul that is there for the taking if you’ll simply DECIDE to reach in and STEAL it back from those who try to take it from you, know this:
She was just a little girl when the entire world, including us, her fucked parents started dropping bombs of generational family dysfunction on her head. Yet, here she stands today, an AUDACIOUS rising queen, who much like her her mother literally just woke up one day and said, “FUCK THAT! This will NOT be how my story goes down and NO ONE will own my power but ME!”, then she picked up her sword and started slaying her story HER way! She faced herself in the mirror and said,
Now and again we try to just stay alive. Maybe we’ll turn it all around, ’cause it’s not too late . It’s never too late! ( … cue her favorite Three Days Grace song.)
Find a way to rise to the savage royalty that reigns inside that hurt little kid YOU see staring back in the mirror and start running head first into your storms! If SHE can do it, YOU can do it! In the meantime, she’ll be walking with honor cords on May 26th when she grabs that diploma before the simps who tried to extinguish her light, but instead ignited the fire of a truly magnificent beast!
I thank GOD on my literal hands and knees every day for breaking ME into the pieces that are now being infused into not just my masterpiece, but hers and her brother’s. In the end, though, it was her! It was HER all along! SHE’S “the one” who came to flip over all the tables in every room she enters and start sprouting healthier branches on our once sick and dying family tree. At the rate she’s going, it’s possible that her babies, my grand babies, will be the first in a long line of sick and broken people to NOT end up in a psyche ward like their mother, her mother, and countless others. I’m so beyond lucky I was called to be her mom, and some day if I decide to grow up, I can only hope to be as AUDACIOUS as her!
… and so, with that, I’ve said it before, and I’ll scream it again from the very top of this mountain in The Queendom I reign in:
There’ll be NO one like him. Into the mystery I slide. I’m hoping he’ll keep it all uncovered! Kinda cryptic, right? Only God knows what the future holds for me. It’s either “been there, done that” reigning here alone, but not lonely, for the rest of my days on this Earth … OR … There is one last king preparing himself and his table for ME somewhere out there in this realm. Admittedly, I won’t be an easy catch. If and when he either does or doesn’t show up, he’ll be a TRUE “alpha man” to the core, who will easily win the privilege and honor of taking and RULINGwhat’s my heart and seeing me completely naked …
No, I’m not actively looking for “one last king” or any king whatsoever, but know this:
If, indeed, he’s out there somewhere preparing his table for me, he’ll find me when he’s supposed to, and yes, he’ll be nothing but a king with a stable chock FULL of horses. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not that girl who’s gonna be running around half naked out there anywhere other than the privacy of my own home, bedroom, or any other space I share with a potential future king.
I … am NOT … that girl! !
I am very modest, to say the least, and you’d be hard pressed to so much as find me in so much as a bathing suit in public, much less with my ass and tits, or pretty much any part of my body hanging out for all the world to see. Which is not to say that I’m judging or shaming any woman who’s is proud to put all her goodies on display. To each, HER OWN, my friends, so, if you’ve got it, want to flaunt it, and are confident enough in yourself to demand that kind of spotlight, by all means … YOU DO YOU!
For me, it’s just a personal decision based simply upon the fact that I’m Someone’s daughterand someone’s mother, and soon, God willing, I’ll be some really lucky kiddo’s “Crazy Grandma Cat“! God Himself knows that for far too many years I gave some of the most precious parts of myself away and shared myself with people who didn’t deserve to have me. So, as for now, these days I’m keeping “all of this” under wraps unless and until I decide someone is worthy and deserving to SEE me and selfishly keep it ALL for himself!
The bottom line is that if I do ever get one last chance to dance on the chess board of love, I’mma be dancing for keeps in OUR kingdom full of horses and happily ever after! “Bye everyone, it’s me … QUEEN Cat!”
The most epic part of this? Since I got back from Lions Den Live, I’ve been thinking about my biggest takeaway “nugget”. I just put it all together starting this morning with ANOTHER convo I’ve been having with my friend, Santa Clause, about the quiet but powerful strength of a Steel Magnolia … which is something I strive to be … and how sometimes it’s the people who just stand strong in the storms of life – always bending but never breaking – who are the most powerful forces of all. That was my Grandpa. That was my Grandma (MARY … not Ida, lol). THAT WAS ZACK!
Why, Cat?
Why are you doing this? What’s your reason? Who’s your audience? Will you ever actually take the stage? Guess what, people? Although the day will surely come when I’ll finally reach for a microphone and hit an actual stage with the unfiltered roar of all the truth bombs and hard-earned wisdoms I’ve gotten to earn on a road that’s been laden with broken glass, bloodied hands, and tired feet, for now?
One of the speakers I was privileged to sit before this weekend, Tu “Ronin” Lam said:
One moment can change the day. One day can change a life. One life can change the world.
Well, if this exchange between me and my son isn’t proof positive that I’m exactly where I need to be doing exactly what I was meant to do, then … well … never mind that. IT IS! You see, these weren’t just simple texts between a mother and her son. They were “a moment” … a moment for me to take the most important stage of all before the “kid” who is still very much watching me.
Lay me down and wash this blood off my hands for me. While I cry out, don’t let me die before I go to sleep. And I can’t keep going, but I cannot start again. These walls I make, they hold me in and hold me back today. Oh, but tomorrow’s new, then I’ll walk right out and walk right over you! And if you hear me screaming, please don’t let me fall again. This road I walk is paved with the broken promises I’ve made. At least a million I’ve fallen, but NEVER will I break! My time is on its’ way … I’ll fall, but I won’t break!
Been there! Done that! Yes, I’m an unbreakable and bendable steel magnolia, but, yes, I still get tired! Who else can relate? Keep the faith, my friends, and remember to treat yourself with patience, love, and grace. Take all the time you need to rest, recuperate, and allow yourself to PLAY when the shit is hitting the wall and you’re dodging those proverbial bullets. You’re a human, not a machine! Also? Don’t forget to breathe! Oh, yes, and above all things …
“People always say that nothing lasts forever. Never thought the day would come when I would turn on me. But I became my savior … held it all together. I’ve become my life line so I won’t be the death of me!”
🎶
Dear Me,
Do you remember when YOU were at war with THE terrorizer of all terrorizers? You know the one: YOU? Well? That bitch is dead now, and thanks be to GOD for that! It feels pretty good, right? As well it should be! I love you, You.
~ Me
Meanwhile, to anyone out there reading this who had to experience the fallout from or somehow became collateral damage during those dark years when I was at war with myself, my apology pales in comparison to guilt and shame I had to own, account for, then finally let go of during my reckoning. This especially means my babies. No one should ever have to live in a war zone they didn’t create.
SHE’S ‘THE ONE’! I know you know it, but she’s going to eclipse us ALL! YOU did that! My favorite moment of the weekend was when the lady from the top said that she needed her OWN speaking platform, then you and Sax grabbed each other’s hands and looked at each other … faces lit UP … because you both already know this and saw HER light shining through all the cracks and holes in your collective legacies. It made me cry. So proud of her!!!
Our ancestors gave us more than just wounds. They gave us wisdom, maps, strengths, mistakes and ashes for us to rise from. I’m not just talking about our ancestors who barely walked upright and communicated with hieroglyphs in their caves. I’m talking about our own parents, lo may some of them have really botched things up.
Not everyone who survives a battle comes out with tougher skin and an iron heart wielding a fiery sword like me. Some people emerge with tender skin, softer hearts, and just enough will to keep living. That’s okay, too! This world needs the balance of both, and if the only audience you’re ever meant to have is your babies, well, then THAT’S a pretty epic crowd.
At the end of the day, just remember that, YES, your kids are watching you. They’re watching everything! One of YOURS might be “The One”! GO ALL IN WITH THEM and change their story. Today. Start TODAY! It’s NEVER too late to pop that bubble you’ve been hiding in and lead your kids to The Promised Land. Don’t just TELL them how to get there … SHOW THEM!
Rising up, back on the street. Did my time, took my chances. Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet. Just a girl and her will to survive.
Hi everyone! It’s me, CAT, and this is the story of “how” I ended up eating a heapin’ plate of my own stinkin’ sheep shit after having finally taken my own, “Don’t just SAY what your toxic traits are … FIX THEM, dear Real Cat! FIX THEM!” advice. Oh, don’t get me wrong – I love fluffy little sheep. It’s just that I don’t wanna BE one. I’m a FELINE, my friends, and cats are kinda famous for standing upright in the midst of nonsensical BULLSHIT … even when it’s SHEEP SHIT of their own!
So, with that, happy upcoming “FIFTY FAUXTH” birthday to me! I’ve risen up, got the eye of a BEAST, and yup, you’re gonna keep hearing me roar! I’m back in the tribe … my Lion’s Den LIVE ticket bought and paid for … hotel and flights to and fro booked … so, Salt Lake City, HERE I COME! Hell! I’m even treating myself to a full day before and behind the event so I can spend some time exploring a city I’ve had on my Bucket List for eons. Yah! I CAN DO THAT! Solo sojourning is one of the perks of being a fearless QUEEN who knows the value of eating alone on an unfrozen tundra!
I was pleasantly surprised when reinstating my Membership to find that it’s only $47 a month, whereas before it was almost $300. Working with Sean is now achieveable for everyone. Keep in mind that he’s not for the faint of heart, though, and especially not for crybabies like I was in that hot, stupid minute when I quit and ran away after breaking Agreement Number Two and taking something personally that wasn’t even about ME. In the meantime, I’d be an asshole, myself, to not give him some of the credit for propelling me into this bittersweet but epic widowed journey:
I’ve been following Sean Whalen, “the Lions Not Sheep” guy, for some time now. He’s one of those influencers that so many people love to hate, with unfiltered “truth bombs” that pummel his audience with supersized doses of reality. He’s been there, done that, had it all, lost it all, and changed the lives of those who are brave enough to face his sobering messages in the mirror. Some people call him an asshole. Sometimes he can BE an asshole! But he’s also one of the greatest fathers I’ve never met.
Meanwhile, let it be known to all that if, perhaps, there is one last king out there fortifying his own kingdom, just as I’ve been fortifying mine, and preparing his table to receive me as the queen who will sit beside him, he’ll be nothing less than a lion of magnanimous proportion with a roar like no one’s ever heard before.
All that being said, if YOU want to know “HOW” I got some of this “thing” that I have, click on either of the pictures below and check it out. By the way, this is NOT a paid advertisement. This man has upwards of a million people following him right now. He doesn’t even need shoutouts at this point. The truths in his system are self-evident, and I’m one of them.
I’ve been following Sean Whalen, the “Lions Not Sheep” guy, for some time now. He’s one of those influencers that so many people love to hate, with unfiltered truth bombs that pummel his audience with supersized doses of reality. He’s been there, done that, had it all, lost it all, and changed the lives of those who are brave enough to face his sobering messages in the mirror. Some people call him an asshole. Sometimes he can BE an asshole! But he’s also one of the greatest fathers I’ve never met. Let me tell you why by sharing last night’s “truth bomb” in the wake of the Kobe Bryant tragedy:
Didn’t know him. Never met him. But as a father I can’t think of more terrifying reality than to leave my children. Men, hug them tighter. Text them. Write them. Call them. Dance with them. Smile with them. Lay with them. Snuggle them. Talk to them. No amount of worldly success will EVER be able to buy back this moment or this day. Nothing you do in the next hour will be more important than connecting with them. Nothing will replace today. Make it memorable. Make it one that if you never had another, you’ve had said and done it all. Honor this man by honoring what is right in front of us.
… and thus a Lion’s roar about “a father’s love” and the reason so many of us love him. HE’S ANSWERED “THE RIDDLE” SPOT ON! This was my response to his post:
To any “dads” out there following Sean’s post here. Let me echo and highlight his message. I’m a new widow here – 158 days old. Lost my king to suicide. The wake of devastation for the people Mr. Bryant just left behind is NOT for the faint of heart. Please DO hug your kids tonight. Do everything listed above. A daddy’s last thoughts, words and deeds for their children can either be the MOST powerful or the MOST devastating things they carry to their OWN graves one day. Choose well and leave ONLY a legacy of LOVE …
I’m not gonna say I was a Kobe Bryant fan, because that would be a lie. Basketball is not my scene, and honestly, professional sports and the athletes that play them impress me ZERO, which is really kinda saying something since my next door neighbor is literally one of the highest paid quarterbacks in the NFL. He’s a genuinely kind person, though, who gives a lot of what he gets back to others. So, I just refer to him as “the nice guy next door” and not “that baller next door”. But I’ve digressed …
The men that impress me the most are the the influential, motivating, “living a life of use to others” pride that lead their packs with love. Which is not to say there aren’t some pro athletes who are using their celebrity as platforms to motivate others and are indeed influential fathers.
But here’s what we DO know:
He was an imperfect, mortal man. He was a husband and a father. FUCK the mistakes he made, ’cause HE’S DEAD, and now there is yet another broken family waking up to an living nightmare today whose lives as they knew them are OVER! Been there. Done that. It’s a reality NOT for the faint of heart, and regardless of who he was or “what he did”, I’m aching for those he left behind. Judging from the pictures in the media of him with and his kids, it appears that as flawed as he may have ever been, he did have good connections with his kids. Perhaps he had been doing “that stuff on Sean’s list”, in which case, thank God he left his kids with a legacy of LOVE!
If you, like I, were lucky enough to have had a truly good father in your atmosphere whose less than favorable departure left a smite on his otherwise beautiful legacy, then you know exactly why Sean’s “PAY ATTENTION DADS” truth bomb meant so much to me. I pray to GOD that the thousands of fathers that are following his lead took his loving message straight into their hearts, because quite frankly, there really is no power on earth like your father’s love. A good father can build you into an impermeable fortress. Trust me when I say that I know from whence I speak … a bad one can bury you alive in wounds that never heal and shatter you from the inside out. Kudos to all the fortress building KINGS in this world and long live your legacies of love!
FATHER’S LOVE
Three feet tall and full of questions. You must have thought I was the smartest man alive. I didn’t always have the answers to every little how and where and why. Like “Daddy, why’s the sky so blue today?” “Does Jesus really hear me when I pray?” “When I grow up, will I be just like you?” “Will I be tall and strong and brave?” There’s no power on earth like your father’s love. So big and so strong as your father’s love. A promise that’s sacred, a promise from Heaven above. No matter where you go… always know You can depend on your father’s love. Especially when it’s cold, especially when you’re lonely. When your little heart is lost trying to find its way. I know the world is always changing, but remember son, that some things never change. And even when my life on earth is through there will still be a part of me in you. ‘Cause some things are forever. Nothing’s ever gonna take my love from you. There is no power on earth like your father’s love. So big and so strong as your father’s love. A promise that’s sacred, a promise from Heaven above. Did I hug enough? Did I care enough? When you most needed me, was I there enough? Enough to make you feel the power of our father’s love? (Bob Carlisle)
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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