Part 28.
I’z free. Eyes free. I can SEE, now.
It almost angers me to recognize and realize the amount and degree of power that Hazel had over me. For 30 years. Not a night that I went to sleep, not a day that I woke up, did I not think about her. About what she did. About where she was. About the possibility that I could run into her.
It’s like she controlled a yoke that was around my neck.
I spent 30 years trying to get closure, some communication, some clarity.
From her.
I did EVERYTHING that I could. I did.
The moment that she was no longer on this earth, my entire everything shifted.
When I say FREEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I’m talking buttnaked-centerstage-coliseum exposed-to-the-world-and-intentionally-proud, FREE.
There are some lessons that I’m going to share about that entire experience. There’s a message in that story. I’m going to utilize both as I walk this new way.
There are a bunch of people who’ve been around me, for these last 30 years, and wondered what the real issue with me was. Wondered why I was stagnant, procrastinating, not living up to my potential or expectations. Wondering how or why it was that I hadn’t seized control of the power that I have, that I’ve always had.
Because I was hurt. I was mad. I was confused. I was lonely. I was depressed. I was jealous. I was broken. And I was waiting for that lady to fix me.
When I say, “I can [SEE]” now, it means that I can “SEE”. I can be the Poet, the Writer, the Artist, the Businessman, the Speaker, the fullness of my creative self. I couldn’t be that for as long as 15-year-old Cornelious was walking around here as hurt and traumatized as I was.
I’m grieving now. I’d never done that before. I’d never grieved the loss of my Mother. Don’t know how long it takes, but I’m encouraged and excited about being able to do it. Because I really do need to let parts of it go. I need to let go.
Last night I was in a room full of individuals grieving the loss of loved ones. Loved ones they lost due to gun violence. There were tears in the room. There was sadness. There was hurt. There was immense pain.
But there was also hope. There was laughter. There was music. There was comfort. There was connection. There was joy. There was genuine concern and care. There was support.
I didn’t want to be in that room. No one wanted to be in that room. But we were there. And in there, was an opportunity. An opportunity for conversation, for consideration, for change, and for community.
An opportunity for love.
Again, I didn’t want to be in that room, but I had to be. And I realized that what I’ve experienced equips me with the compassion and courage and confidence to be in that room, and rooms like it. To be support, to be of assistance, to be of service. Or to be a guest.
Anyway. Life feels different now.
I’m going to be posting more. Performances coming up. Products in the pipeline. But more and most importantly, I’m free.
Thank God, I’m free.
©️2024 Cornelious “See” Flowers
