Rest in Peace Whitney!

 "We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."

~Chuck Palahniuk~

 Whitney Houston passed away February 12, 2012. She was 48 years old.

I never in a million years thought I would be hearing those words, not anytime soon, anyway. In fact, I went to sleep last night hoping I'd wake up and it would all be a horrible dream...but it wasn't. The world has lost a shining star, an international icon. My heart aches and my prayers go out to her family.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love me some Whitney Houston. I have all her Cds and even play her holiday Cd each Christmas; it's part of our family tradition. From the very first time I saw her, I remember asking, "Who is that?" There was just something about her that made you take a second look. Whitney was talk, thin and beautiful. Unforgettable. And when she opened her mouth to sing, it wasn't just any voice that spilled forth, it came straight from the angelic gates of heaven itself. You realized you had witnessed something spectacular and God-given.I was in awe. I appreciated talent even back then.

There was just something about Whitney that appealed to me immediately. Maybe it was because she was REAL. She was the sister-friend that I could have gone to school with or simply hung out with. I could imagine myself picking up the phone and saying, "Whitney, girl let me tell you what happened today"  or "Girl, you showed out on the Soul Train Awards." Whitney carried herself with an air of class and sophistication whenever I was privy to her presence on stage. Her beauty radiated outward like a halo for all to see and she made me so very proud.

Whitney's talent spoke volumes and when she blessed us with a song, we realized we were in the presence of a superstar. God blessed her with an extraordinary voice that generations of young artist would try to emulate, but there was only one Whitney. There will never be another. When she sang a song, we felt it somewhere deep within, inside. We didn't just hear her songs, we experienced each emotion. For me, it's all about the emotion. Not many artist can capture the essence of a song that makes us feel it, note by note.

Back in the day, I wanted to be Whitney. I sensed there was something special about her from the very beginning. She had that IT appeal and it radiated brilliantly like the brightest star in the sky. I emulated her hairstyle. You know, the one she wore with big wavy curls, and I attempted to dress like her. I didn't have the height, but I had her reed-thin frame. And her smile lit up any stage she graced. Whitney could do no wrong in my eyes. I would defend her like she was my home girl from the block.

Yes, Whitney was human. So, please don't judge her. She had very real flaws, imperfections, demons and a dark side like the rest of us. Guess what? It didn't take away from the incredible gift God had bestowed upon her. Remember how she took that Dolly Parton song, I Will Always Love You, and made it her own? She placed her stamp on it and it was pure Whitney. Remember the video of her simply sitting in a chair, how could you forget it, there was nothing dramatic or over-the-top about it? But she owned that song and when she hit those high notes with little to no effort, I wanted to jump through the screen and give her a high five and say, "You go, girl! Do the damn thing." Whitney was my girl. That's her legacy....she was the greatest talent of my era. And I will always, always love her.

I've come to learn, there is a lesson in everything. What I take away from Whitney Houston's tragic death is twofold:

Life is short, so very short. We are here and gone in the blink of an eye, so don't take it for granted. Show and tell your loved ones how important they are to you. AND...I pray that I live my life in a way that affects people in a positive way. I don't want my living to be in vain. I don't want to be forgettable. When I take my final breath, I want to leave behind something that is lasting and pure and good for generation after generation to appreciate.

Rest in peace, Whitney. You are gone, but never forgotten. There will never be another Whitney Houston. Rest now. Job well done!



What's in a Date?

What’s in a Date?

At this very moment, as I watch the rain fall in heavy droves in downtown Atlanta, I sigh. My heart is heavy. I feel as dreary, gloomy and gray as the weather. My soul is sad... My spirit feels alone. . . I see the rain as being symbolic of my tears and the state of my downtrodden spirit.

My mother’s birthday is fastly approaching and I always get this way around this time of the year, like clockwork. She would have been 66 on August 23rd. The passage of time never seems to make the realization any better to accept.

I often question the “whys” of life. Why did I have to lose my mother to breast cancer? Why me? It’s simply not fair that I didn’t get to spend the time I needed and desired with her. It’s simply not fair that I didn’t get to share precious moments and events in my life with her. I wasn’t ready to let her go. We never are.

However, no one ever said life was fair.

I’ve heard it all: It was her time, she’s in a better place now, it’ll get better with time, she’s no longer suffering, you’ll see her again some day. I realize people say these things and they do mean well, but. . . it doesn’t lessen the pain. Unless you’ve walked in my footsteps, you can’t truly understand. True, with time, life does move on; it has no choice but to. Yet, there is still a dull, piercing ache that reminds me at inopportune times how I am a motherless child. I’ll never have anyone say, “That’s my child” or “I am so proud of you.” I’ll never have that unconditional love again. My heart aches and I feel all alone in the world and then just like that, the moment passes and life begins again. Life goes on, regardless.

God has blessed me with “substitute” mothers at different times in my life, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. They gave me what I needed and was missing at that moment, a mother’s love and guidance. I am so thankful and grateful for their entry into my life. I guess when it is all said and done, at the end of the day, God really doesn’t give us more than we can bear.

When Sunday, August 23rd rolls around again, I’ll try to focus on the good memories, and there were many, that I keep close to heart. Memories that I will treasure until the day I die. I’ll share stories with my children who never truly got the opportunity to know their grandmother. They were very young when she passed. Mostly, I’ll give thanks and celebration for the years I did have with her and for the independent and loving spirit she instilled in me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson

Breaking news: Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, is dead at 50 years old. I can't believe it. My mind simply won't or simply can't accept this. I've been in front of my TV since the news broke. Im watching CNN, BET and other media outlets as they take us through the brilliant life of one of, if not the greatest entertainer this century has seen. And. . . I keep repeating to myself, this can't be real, he's not really dead, I can't believe this. He was suppose to live to a ripe old age and pass away quietly in his sleep.

Michael's death has reinforced two clear facts: Life is short and when it's your time, it's your time.

Michael Jackson. My first celebrity crush. Who could resist the cute, brown-skinned boy with the large brown eyes and the beautiful voice? When he sang I just knew he was singing to me and only me. When he danced, he mesmerized me with his fancy footwork. I recall I was going to marry Michael, my sister, Randy and one of my cousins was going to marry, Marlon. We had it all planned out and were going to have a triple wedding and live happily ever after and become best friends with Janet.

From my early teenage years to young adulthood, Michael Jackson songs have been right there with me every step of the way. I have a MJ song for every boy I was in love with at one time or another.

In my reflection, I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like to make a major impact on the entire world. Not just the United States, but the ENTIRE world. Some people are born to make a difference, to make a change. They are far and few between. Rare jewels. Michael Jackson was one of those people, imperfections and all.

RIP Michael Jackson. You are gone but will forever be remembered and discovered for generations and generations to come. True icons never die.

Stop the Madness!

“Four-year-old found dead while in the care of live-in boyfriend”

“Two-year old, with multiple internal injuries, found sodomized and dead in crib”

I am so sick and tired of reading in the newspaper or online or watching on the evening news about a child losing his/her life at the hands of a live-in boyfriend or a boyfriend who is babysitting for his girlfriend. It’s all so senseless and avoidable. I know I’m probably going to piss off some single moms out there, but I don’t care. Someone has to give these children a voice. They are the victims in these scenarios.

Stop the madness! I’ll say that again, in case you missed it:STOP THE MADNESS! I’ve never been a single mom, but if I were, I’d never, ever leave my child or children with a man I’ve just met and is dating. In many cases, these women are simply waltzing off to work, shopping or wherever and leaving their innocent babies behind to be slaughtered by men (monsters) they really don’t know. I don’t care if you think you love him, he loves you, he’s good to you, he throws down in bed. . . If you are a mother, single or married, in this day and age, you HAVE to be careful. There are no ifs, ands or buts. You have to be extra careful. We live in a world where there are a lot of evil predators lurking around and our children are their primary prey. Don’t hand over your children on a serving tray.

Women simply don’t know what they are bringing up into their homes---in some cases; it’s a sick pedophile or abuser. And they find out all too soon, usually later. Even if the children aren’t killed, they are damaged on a mental and emotional level from the abuse. It changes their lives forever. It breaks my heart to hear of these stories over and over again. Same script, different cast of characters. Women, mothers, wake the hell up, and quit trusting these monsters to be caregivers to your children. You are dating them, not your children. Quit being so trusting and accommodating for these men. I could go on and on about what low-life, trifling, slimy, disgusting mofos these men truly are. However, I won’t because we don’t have to give them power. We don’t have to give them our babies.

My children were probably two-years old before they ever stayed overnight at anyone’s home, family included. I wanted them to have the ability to talk and inform me of what was going on in any situation I placed them in. It’s a sad society that we live in; however, it is our reality. We simply don’t know what people are capable of. Sometimes it is stuff found in our worse nightmares. Female, and male children for that matter, aren’t safe these days. I’ve found that anybody can talk a good game and put on a nice demeanor for awhile;long enough to claim your trust and your children.

I’m not trying to sound preachy. . . I’m simply concerned. I’m simply passionate about our young people. I realize we can’t be with our children 24-7 and even with the best intentions and safeguards, bad things still and can happen. I’m encouraging women to act more cautious and responsible in who you are handing your children over to and bringing into their lives.

The Best Mom I Know

Experiences such as the death of her mother, two years after her own birth. Abandoned and given away by a young father. Adopted by a poor, Christian family. Became a single mom to two girls. Lost her only biological sister to an early death. Years passed, and lost a third child to an early grave.

For most of us, these are ingredients for the makings of a tragic life. Yet my mother, Dorothy Ann Taylor, chose to triumph over tragedy. She made the mental decision to win and not be defeated at the hand she was dealt. Her entire life was lived in a matter that chose to see the positives over the negatives, always with style and grace. I think my mom, Dot, as we affectionally called her, figured out that life is what we make it out to be and family is whoever you hold dear in your heart.

Regretfully, I lost my mother, my best friend, to breast cancer many years ago; yet, it feels like only yesterday. Years have passed, but the pain and yearning for my mother remains. My mom was my rock---the only person who has ever loved me with unconditional love, accepted me for who I am, flaws and all. Her unbending strength and strong fortitude were my shelter during silent storms and how I miss the many conversations in which my sadness and lows was quickly turned into genuine laughter. There were many happy times, too many to list. Laughter was always present in our home because my mom had a wonderful sense of humor and always kept us in stitches.

Growing up, looking back now, my mother did the very best she could with what we had. We may not have had a lot of material possessions, but we had a lot of love and that was enough. My sister and I grew up with a wonderful sense of who we are and our place in the world. My mom had a way of making me feel very special and she was so proud of my successes no matter how large or small. Even though I never told her, my mom was my hero. Even on her deathbed, she was a symbol of grace, strength and faith…still thinking of others and putting others first.

My mom's gifts to me: she taught me, by example, how to be independent, self-sufficient, strong and confident, how to always hold my head high in the midst of my failures, how to pray, how to reach for the stars, believe in myself and to follow my dreams. That's her legacy. One I hope to pass on to my daughter, Briana.

My mom was a dreamer, an achiever, a wise woman, a survivor…the best mom I know, my hero. Dorothy Ann Taylor. Forever and always in my heart and soul.