My life. My world. Love, hope, peace, joy & happiness.
Good Evening!✨
I wanted to share an update to this morning’s post, “I Need To Get This Out, Please Bear With Me.” In short, I’m feeling so much better. I decided to drive up for the funeral today instead of waiting until tomorrow. And I’m glad I did. As much as I wanted to be alone, I needed to be around family. I needed the love, laughs, and hugs. God is good.
Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers! I needed them. Wishing you a peaceful, relaxing evening.🙏🏽♥️
Love you always,
Shaun
Good Morning☀️
Y’all, I need to get this out before I take on today and this weekend. Been holding it in too long.
Momma is dead.
Grandma Velleria (momma’s stepmom) is dead.
They are both gone and I am hurting.
Now, I’ve said it.
I’ve acknowledged it.
But it still doesn’t seem real. My soul feels it, my body even feels it because the tears won’t stop flowing; however, there’s a disconnect somewhere. Not sure where, but it’s there.
I have tried and wished I could skip today and everything this weekend will bring. Not only is today the anniversary of my mom’s death, but it’s also the day of Grandma’s wake, and tomorrow’s her funeral and the next day, Mother’s Day.
Can I scream?!
Is it alright to SCREAM?!!!
I hate funerals.
I hate feeling sad.
I feel terrible because I have only texted one of her children and posted hearts and praying hands under the others’ Facebook posts. That’s about all I could and can manage right now. I love them and feel their pain, but I’m also not ready to acknowledge with them that she’s gone.
Honestly, I wouldn’t even be mentioning it now if I hadn’t woke up to a text from my bestie reminding me to celebrate both women this weekend with laughter and fond memories. UGH!!!! Of course she meant well but I didn’t want the reminder. I didn’t even tell her Grandma had died. She saw it on Facebook. I haven’t even mentioned it our group chats. Shoot, I haven’t even chatted since Grandma passed last week. I’ve been avoiding it. Now, it’s here.
I can’t run from it.
I can’t hide from it.
I can’t keep acting like I don’t feel the pain.
It’s here.
Yeah… I’m feeling a lot this morning. I was going to share something uplifting but decided to go on and get my feelings out the way. Get this cry out and carry on.
I miss my momma. I can’t even look in the mirror without seeing her in myself. I wish I could’ve taken her pains away—not only her physical pain but the pains of life. All she wanted was to be accepted, respected, and loved. I wish I could give her a good hug just one more time.
Grandma Velleria will be so missed. She was not the typical grandmother most people my age or older would think of at first thought. She loved life and lived; however, not before going through years of abuse and mistreatment—mostly from my grandfather. They had that Rick James–Teena Marie kind of love. They were together in the 70’s and early 80’s so things were WILD! But once she got away from him, baby, she LIVED! Up until she passed, you could find her listening to music and dancing. She was the life of the party and the light of the family.
Grandma was her mother’s only child. She left behind six of her eight natural children and two stepsons, my uncles. She had nearly 20 grandchildren, and I can’t even begin to list the number of great-grandchildren and their children. Her presence will definitely be missed.
That’s all for now. Thank you for allowing me to express my feelings, something I probably need to do more often. Please keep me and my family in your thoughts and prayers this weekend.
Wishing you a wonderfully, blessed weekend. May yours be filled with lots of love and joy.♥️
I love you always,
Shaun
Good Morning☀️
As much as I have been trying to avoid the subject, it’s not going away. On this day two years ago, I spoke to my mom for the last time while she was awake—not coherent or even alert, but awake. She had talked for two days nonstop. When I say nonstop, I mean for the entire 48 hours. She had had conversations with people who had passed away, people who were in the room who I couldn’t see, and every now and then, she’d talk to me. I didn’t ask the nurse for anything to help her sleep because, for the first time in decades, she wasn’t in any pain or uncomfortable. She was just talking. So, I let her talk. I still remember her asking for breakfast almost every hour during the last night of her conversations. It was like talking to a toddler who wouldn’t go to sleep—“Go to sleep, and when you wake up, your food will be here.” She’d be quiet (but whispering, I could hear her😂) for 15-30 minutes before she would ask again, “Is it time to eat breakfast?”
While looking through my photos this morning, I found the last picture I took of her while she was awake. I remember sending it to my sisters to show them she was okay and had finally stopped talking. The more I look at it, the more I can see that she was actually gone. Her body was still functioning, but she wasn’t there. The time stamp was 8:37 PM on May 4, 2023. Here’s a TikTok video I shared that evening at 9:48 PM. I had no clue that only a few hours later she would have her second seizure of the week and never regain consciousness. She died on May 9th, a few days before Mother’s Day.
Here’s a photo taken a few weeks after she had me. Y’all, I can’t believe she died before my 50th birthday.💔
A few days ago, her stepmother passed away. When I tell you it felt like losing her all over again. I can’t believe they’re actually gone, and I’ll never see them again.😔
I’ll end here.
I pray that you have a wonderful day filled with love, peace, and happiness. You deserve it.♥️
I love you,
Shaun
Just moments ago, I logged back onto social media after almost a week, and the first thing I see is “Pope John Francis Has Died.” Wow! Definitely wasn’t expecting this to be the first thing I saw. Life… and death. We live and we die.
I’m not Catholic. Nor did I follow the Pope’s life. However, I remember when he was elected and all the controversy surrounding his thoughts on inclusiveness and compassion. Even though he wasn’t my Pope per se, he became my Pope. On May 20, 2015, I copied a post and prayer of his that I revisit several times a week (found it a few years ago in my journal). It’s been a beacon of hope for me. I pray that it gives you hope as well.
The Pope’s Prayer (Saved May 20, 2015)
“God has put dreams and desires in every person’s heart. But most of the time, there’s a season of waiting involved. Maybe you’re waiting for a relationship to improve; waiting to get married; waiting for a promotion; or waiting to overcome an illness. Much of life is spent waiting. But there’s a right way to wait, and a wrong way to wait. Too often, when things don’t happen on our timetable, we get down and discouraged or anxious and fretful. That’s because we’re not waiting the right way.
Prayer:
Father God, today I choose to wait expectantly for You. I trust that You are working behind the scenes on my behalf. I put my trust and hope in You knowing that You have good things in store for my future through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
May Pope John Francis rest in peace.🕊️
Amen
This post has been in my drafts since January 8, 2022. I wrote it for another blog, but can’t locate the link. Glad I saved it here. This was my mother.
Title: Momma, I See You
I was born to a teenage mother, who was born to a teenage mother, who was born to a teenage mother. Yep.. three generations of teen moms. My mother was 14 years old when she became pregnant with me and 15 when she gave birth. What’s ironic is my grandmother was also pregnant. Not only was she about to birth her eighth child at 30, but she was also about to become a first time grandmother. Can you imagine being 30 years old with eight children and your first grandchild on the way? Oh… and my great grandmother, my grandmother’s mom, had 12 children at the time and she was only 43. Y’all, I’m 47 with two children. Had my first child at 21 and my second at 30. Just thinking about what it must have felt like being a teenage mother is unimaginable, let alone having multiple children and grandchildren by the age of 30.
Well, a few years ago, during one of my mom’s frequent visits to the emergency room, I thought about what it must have felt like to be responsible for another life at such a young age. When I arrived at the hospital, she was in so much pain. Every time the nurses touched her she moaned. I wanted to help but couldn’t. Finally the doctor gave her something to ease the pain and she fell asleep. I didn’t leave. I just sat there watching her sleep. Honestly, it was like watching a stranger. The person I saw lying there wasn’t the loud, strong, opinionated woman I knew. This woman was vulnerable, tired, and broken. That’s when it hit me that she was so much more than my mother, she was a woman.
While sitting there, I began reminiscing about my childhood and the sacrifices she had made for me and my five siblings. She always made sure our needs were met even if she had to go without. When I was a baby, she worked in the cotton fields to buy me clothes and pampers. She married a man twice her age, and endured abuse, so that she could support me. By the time she divorced him two years later, she had another little girl to support. Although she had two toddlers, she graduated from high school early and enrolled in college. At 18 she was walking the campus of Jackson State University with two in tow. I still remember attending night classes with her when she couldn’t find a babysitter. During that time she was always learning something new as well as introducing us to new things. For me, that was the most exciting time of my childhood. Also, she was no stranger to hard work. Throughout my childhood, I don’t ever remember hearing her complain about taking on second jobs or not being able to take off for vacations. She did what she had to do to provide for her family. I remember how one year she walked miles to work in the snow, while pregnant with one of my younger sisters. One day she slipped and fell and still went to work. That’s how dedicated and selfless she was. Although she experienced heartaches, disappointments, and abuse, we rarely saw her cry. She was the rock of the family.
Needless to say, by the time I left the hospital I was a changed woman. I saw my mom through a different lens. Not only her but my grandmother and great grandmother as well. I often wonder what kind of sacrifices and compromises did they have to make to ensure their children had everything they needed.
Listen, like most mother-daughter relationships, my mother and I have had our ups and downs. However, it wasn’t until I put myself in her shoes that I was able to better understand some of her experiences and decisions. I will admit that the woman she was throughout my childhood made me the woman I am today, and for that, I’m grateful.
The months I spent with her before she passed were a blessing I didn’t know I needed. I needed that time with her. Even though it was like caring for a child at times, I still knew I was hers. So many times I wanted to climb up in the hospital bed with her.
My momma…
Life can change in the blink of an eye. Make sure you cherish every moment with those you love.♥️
I love you always,
Shaun
Today, I’m remembering my brother, Alton Sutton, Jr. He passed away on this day five years ago (October 19, 2019). There’s so much I want to say, but at the moment, I’m finding it hard to articulate my thoughts. When I tell you his presence in our family is so missed.
My brother was our gentle giant—kind, caring, loving, and very mild mannered. Definitely had a heart of gold. He was my dad and stepmom’s only son.
We were on this earth together for 46 years. Born almost three months apart (I was the oldest). Practically, twins… Yes, I miss him.
May he continue to rest in power and peace.🙏🏽🕊️♥️
It’s Shaun’s World 
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