Someone asked me recently what kind of blowback do I get from posting all of the stuff that I post about the person that murdered my Mother.

“None.”

I have never received a message/call/text/warning/request to be quiet.

Not one. Not ONCE, in 30 years.

Why?

Because EVERYONE involved and/or around has always known that Hazel murdered my Mom.

Part 16.

“No Secret, How I Feel.”

You have never and will never see someone get on a post or under a post and make a comment to the contrary of ANYTHING that I have ever said. I don’t delete comments. I’ve never blocked anyone. I have never restricted my page from the public’s view. My social media, website, and online presence is and HAS ALWAYS BEEN open to the public.

Crazy right?

And that is what my siblings and I have been dealing with for the last 29 years, 8 months, and 27 days.

All those seconds, minutes, hours, days, moments, of silence.

That “what happens in this house” sh*t really has black households by the tongue!

Over the past few weeks I’ve received so many calls and had so many conversations about things that Hazel has done to people. Quite a few of those things I’d never heard or would have never imagined that people could know and yet still be in relationship or company with her. Things that would blow your mind. But nothing that surprised me, because ummm, she did murdered my Mother, and far too many people have been, well, cool with that.

I get a call yesterday, that it seems to be any day now she’ll transition. When I heard it I asked myself what do I feel?

“Hazel, there’s still time for a dying declaration. I know you’re going through hell. Your mind is eating you alive. Cancer is eating you dead. But that conscience eats at you a different way. I don’t care what kind of evil you are, as you near that light you feel the burdens of all that bad stuff holding you heavy towards a depth you don’t want to go. I know you’re going through hell. I know that you’re hurting. Not the physical hurt of this disease ravaging your body, but the hurt of that little girl inside of you that was abandoned and damaged and disrespected and abused and taken advantage of and exposed and manipulated and unseen. I remember some of the stuff you told my Mom. About you being discarded, abandoned. Remember, I was there during some of those fights. I heard you cry out in distress about your trauma. I heard you talking about how your Mom hurt you. I heard you talking about what men had done to you. Whispering doesn’t hold up well to thin walls. I spent many days & nights hanging near that door or inside of my closet, listening to what you and my Mom were talking about. I heard a lot of it. That’s the main reason that I had been able to forgive you. Because I heard my Mother comfort and console you. I heard her have grace and compassion and understanding towards you. I heard and saw her kindness with you.
As a matter of fact I believe I know what happened that week of her death. I think I know what pushed you over the edge.
Earlier that week my Dad had come to the house and my Mom had a conversation with him. She told him that she was ready to be with him and only him. They discussed our future. They made some plans and put some action-steps in play to facilitate the process. They spoke to us about what we were about to be as a family. I believe that she had that conversation with you at dinner on that Saturday. I know that she was planning to talk to you, because she’d told me that she was. She told me that because I was skeptical and nervous about you coming back around in those last few days. She assured me that you and your children were not coming back to live with us. I imagine that at dinner she told you what her plans were. She probably told you that she loved and cared for you and your children, but she had a different desire for her and her children, going forth.
I know that hurt. It hurt to lose her. I know what she meant to you. I know how much you loved and admired her. I know how important she was to you. And Hazel, remember, I was there in August of 1993, when she first put you out and you told her “…You’ll never get away with this.”. I was there when you begged and pleaded to stay. I heard the threats you whispered. Thin-ass closet walls.
I’m sure you tried to rationalize and negotiate with her. The ride home from the dinner was probably an argument. Or maybe you played it cool. You’d probably made up your mind about what you were going to do. One of those, “If I can’t have you, no one can” moments. And in y’all’s case, “If I can’t have you, then he definitely can’t”. Because that’s the part that was really hard in all of this. Let’s just say that my Mother was the love of your life. Now she’s leaving you and going back to the person that you took her from. How dare he win? Not on your watch. And because he’s your uncle, you would know how they were doing. You’d have to see us. You’d have to see them. Happy. Together. In love. Perfect.
That was a lot to bear. A lot to anticipate bearing. You weren’t going to put yourself through that pain. Not when you could just end it. Kill her and hurt him. Because the alternative was for you to be hurt some more and you’d had enough hurt in your life. You were tired of being hurt, being let down, being disappointed, being abandoned… by people you love. By people that were supposed to love you. By people that said they loved you.
Crazy that I know all of that. My Mother tried her best to keep y’all’s relationship a secret from me. But she gave me so many details about aspects of y’all’s life and some of the trouble that you were causing. Had I possessed a broader experience in human relationships, I would have recognized that y’all were a couple. She probably figured that I was getting older and I was going to figure it out. I remember her telling you, in August, “Corey is getting older and there are certain things that I don’t want him exposed to…”. I didn’t know what “certain things” were at that moment. I thought that maybe she was talking about your friends and some of the behaviors that you were exhibiting over those last couple of years. I remember the day that she came home and the guy Lorenzo was in the house. She was livid about the weed smell and the alcohol. You probably forgot about that. Or never thought that I hadn’t forgotten it. I didn’t forget. As a matter of fact, I’ve remembered so much stuff from back then.
Anyway.
I thought she was talking about that as a “certain thing”. But I believe that “certain thing” was her lifestyle; Being gay. She hadn’t reconciled that with her moral, religious, and character beliefs. So y’all were a secret.
And that had to hurt. It really had to hurt to know that she was hiding that. You were probably wanting to be bold and out and free. You probably wanted to let the whole entire world know about y’all. You were proud and happy and possessed someone that you felt was EVERYTHING. And yet, y’all were a secret. To us. To certain other people. That had to be a lot. And it was unfair. Because you should have been able to live in your truth. She should have been able to live in hers.
Or maybe her truth was that she was exactly who she was and you were just a moment in that. That had to hurt. And then she’s leaving you. You, the person that told her how much you’d been hurt before. The person that had never had stability and consideration and consistency and love and family, the way that she mandated it in our home. That was traumatic, to have to imagine living without it. And so you decided not to. You decided that she would not live with it. Especially not with someone other than you.
I hope that you’re able to read this. Or that someone is reading this to you.
Either way, I know these words needed to be said, written, and removed from my possession. Holding onto them has been sickening, deafening, and harmful. This truth belongs to you.
You might have thought that only you knew it. Or that no one had you pegged. Guess what? So many people know! Over the past few weeks I’ve heard so many stories about things that you’ve done to people. And that’s crazy. Because it’s like, you’ve been able to be a real-life monster and terrorize so many people without consequence or accountability.
Or maybe they forgive you too. Because they know that hurt people hurt people. And evidently, everyone knows that you’ve been hurt. Or that you perceive yourself as hurt.

Well, you’ll be pain and hurt-free soon. A dying declaration. Still on the table.

This story will be the precipice for a new beginning. For quite a few people. I’m looking forward to that. What I’ve gone through, what we’ve gone through, will serve as the foundation for my new purpose in life. Which was probably my sole purpose, this whole time. But, I’m going to help some people. Through my experience. You should find a sense of joy and peace in that: You murdered my Mother. But what you did is going to save some lives. I promise. Her living was not in vain. And ultimately, nor was yours.

I shouldn’t be this damn mature! Forgiving. Understanding. Compassionate. Aware.
But I know one thing, I know that you know this is me. That I’m sincere. That this is who I am. That this is who she said I was. That this is who she raised me to be. That she is proud of me.”

Yup, that’s how I feel.

About that.

How do I feel inside?

At peace. Calm. Free. Light.

Present.

But late for work.

Damn.

I’ll be back later.

(To be Cont’d…”)

©️2023 Cornelious “See” Flowers