When Mother’s Day Hurts

My mother in law was just here and I know what’s wrong with me – it’s Mother’s Day. It came out of nowhere – like a deer in the night trying to cross the road or a tornado that has no sign of existing but suddenly does, and drops directly onto your house. And of course this has nothing do with her or her bringing it up – it’s just the way I feel, and that’s mine to own.

Mother’s Day has been a big deal for me all my life. When my mother in law mentioned it was like I felt a knife in my heart, all the way through my back, and radiating throughout my whole being. I hate feeling so deeply. I wish I didn’t feel at all sometimes – I would rather be dead inside than feel at the depths that I do – for many reasons, but this is a prime example. I wish I could be heartless like other people are sometimes.

My adult lifelong best friend and I used to “uncelebrate” it, Mother’s Day. Different reasons but…that was our whole thing every Mother’s Day. It got super hard after she died because she knew all the details of why it was so difficult for me and she got it – and vice versa. Now, with my mother gone, and this idea I have in my head that my birth mother is probably dead, too, and all hope is forever lost of finding her – that makes me have even more questions…I think about all the miscarriages…and it all hurts…

I know this is like three weeks away but it’s like…I can’t explain. And I wish I could. I wish I could find words. I wish I could talk it out. Write it out. Music it out. Art it out. Ride it out. Run it out. Drive it out. Kill it. I feel like a shell. And yes, of course, it will pass. But please be kind to those who are hurting on Mother’s Day.

Don’t remind them they have at least the child/children they do (that’s actually feeling like the HARDEST part of this year’s upcoming Mother’s Day for me – BEING a mom on Mother’s Day, because I don’t want to be reminded of it and I feel guilt for that, on top of everything else I’m feeling). Don’t minimize it. Don’t belittle them. Don’t try to fix it, either. Just let them hurt and be there for them. Don’t pour salt in their wounds by saying all the cliche things. They know what they still have but it doesn’t invalidate what they’re missing, or what they’re feeling.

I know many of you are going to struggle with Mother’s Day this year – and many of you have for years already. Please…just be kind to yourself. Try to be graceful with yourself. Don’t go to the what if’s and the I should haves and all the thoughts. Let yourself grieve whatever you need to grieve. Honor your heart and your feelings in whatever way you need to (for me it’ll likely be writing and/or music). Just…love yourself gently, and try to remember that you’re not alone. ❤️

When Mother’s Day Hurts

Lube Up.

I have had disappointments. Struggles. Moments that I’ve lost faith in what I used to believe. Oh yes, more than a few. Like most lives, mine is sprinkled with the moments that passed me by, the opportunities I only saw in the rear-view mirror, hopes lost in the fading light of what I thought would be my day. Yet, here I am. Here we all are, those of us still here.

It has not all been easy. It has never been black and white. It has never been that simple – perhaps that is why I dream of adding color to it all in my creative endeavors. But I am not defined by my disappointments, nor am I confined by them. I am shaped by them, changed by them, but never owned by them. It is in the learning that I am set free: free to try again, or free to do my life differently.

I’m an intelligent and logical person but I’m also an empath. I am what many from childhood and even up til now have considered wasteful. You know, the uselessness of having a head in the clouds or a heart perpetually full of feelings and passion that are all an unproductive, non-conducive waste of time. Those things are true, taken to extremes they can be detrimental…but so can the excess of anger and judgment and many other things.

It is through all of my own experiences – especially the difficulties and painful experiences – that I have learned how to authentically be me and to make my soul characteristics, both the darkness and the light of it, not just my way of living but also my way of EARNING a living – because to be a creator is MY PURPOSE. Others don’t have to understand or relate to that – they don’t even have to respect it…they’re consuming what I’m bringing to the table and not bringing a plate to the potluck.

We ALL have a soul purpose. The world needs ALL of us, with ALL of our different gifts. Don’t put people down or judge them because they don’t live the life you would choose for yourself. Thank them, instead, for what they bring into your life with their differences.

The world needs construction workers and emergency services workers and doctors and nurses and teachers and IT people and factory workers and farmers and truckers and on and on to help it to run smoothly. Of course it does. OF COURSE it does.

But do you know what it also needs that just about every one of those “essential” people consume like vitamins? The light of the artists – the realms of the writers, the musicians, the deep thinkers, the actors, the comedians, the magicians, the drawers of magical worlds and the painters of scapes in sound or in color, or both all at once – to escape to.

The world NEEDS the creators of comfort and escape to help the “essential workers” to cope with the stresses of their lives serving others. It needs the creators to help to invent and build the world, but also to help the world remember it’s inner child – the one that existed before it was told it couldn’t be itself and had match the rules that killed it’s true joy – and hopefully in some small way to help that inner child stay alive.

The world needs the dreamers and those brave enough to share their wildest and craziest ideas and creations to help the world see beauty and creativity, to find inspiration, and maybe, in some ways, to heal.

The world needs ALL OF US, all the time.

What has not worked for me in my life has taught me the depths of who I am. It has also taught me the limits of who I am. What has worked for me may not be for everyone but it has helped me to shine when I want to hide in the dark, and the broken parts of me and my past are not monuments made of stone, nor have they turned ME to stone. They are, even at their worst, portals through which I travel into a better tomorrow…or the hope that I one day will.

The experiences I have had and will have are the tools through which I create, through which I manifest and through which I show others (if not by word then by example) exactly what thriving – not just surviving – is.

Or, that is my hope. That is my goal.

That is my heart, and it just wants to make a difference in the lives of struggling people by sometimes making them feel less alone in their darkness by being dark with it but also by helping them to escape through the magic that sometimes pours out of me.

Our magics and our roles may be different, but it takes us all to make the world a happy and comfortable and interesting place to be. So don’t down the dreamer. Don’t loathe the lover. Don’t hate the hurt – because hurt people hurt people. Don’t damn the already damaged.

Don’t waste your time or energy playing the role of jury or judge because you’re neither. That’s not the job of a single one of us. We’re just here to do whatever we do best, whatever drives us and serves the world for the better, and to love – because love is the center of everything, even logic.

We are energetic, crystalline beings living in physical, 3D bodies. We are souls that are taking residence in a vessel so complex we haven’t even completely figured the vessel out yet. There was a time where there was very few awakened souls here on earth, and now many are becoming awake to these truths.

That is the purpose for all of us. We are here to experience this realm of existence while it lasts and to do our soul’s job in this realm to leave it better than we found it. What’s so hard about that? Apparently a lot – perhaps that is why we also need philosophers and psychologists and theologians and spiritual intellectuals whose jobs are to help us to sort through the two realities of spiritual and human existence.

The synopsis? Different types of people with different goals in life really aren’t meant to rub each other with friction causing constant lifequakes (pun totally intended). They’re meant to grease each other up, like lube, if you will, so that we can move more easily through the time that makes up our human life and actually EXPERIENCE IT.

Start moving with life instead of trying to force it to be a certain way. Creating your life is a process. Lube up already. Otherwise, life’s going to keep being rough and leaving friction burns in your soul. 🤷‍♀️❤️

The Mighty Oak Will Kill You

I mediated this morning on something that I told my child last night when he asked for advice about why someone in his life did what they did and about why it hurt him. I told him that this the person who had hurst him was not yet coursgeous enough to heal himself before he broke someone else, and that it hurt him because he cared about this person.

He depended on this person to not hurt him. He believed in this person. And for a child, that’s really scary and difficult because as a child you’re still learning to process emotions and understand what emotions are. It takes maturity at multiple levels to remain calm and to not hurt a child with you words. I suppose the same is true for adults – especially the way we treat and speak to ourselves.

So, I went on this very deep, very enlightening almost hour long soul journey with my own meditative backing track (coming soon, shameless plug) and it was one of those meditative experiences where you’re doing your meditative thing (eyes closed, body relaxed, going within your deeper, inner being and connecting with it) and it hurts.

It burns. It stings. It aches. Tears roll down your cheeks even though your eyes are closed. You feel every needle the porcupine of life has shot into you. But you keep going and you find yourself at the edge of your inner self and inner peace and you step into it, and you bathe in it’s light. While you’re there, you see things about yourself for what they are.

What did I see within myself? That being strong doesn’t require being fearless – it’s facing the fears that create the strength in the first place. That protecting yourself doesn’t require meanness, it requires patience and love. And, that being guarded and angry doesn’t deflect the things you don’t want to see as much as it blocks your blessings and wastes valuable energy and time.

This is hard. This process is one we are faced with numerous times in our lives. My son was faced with it for the first time last night, and I shared some of my experiences with him and it helped me to remember things that current shadows have been hiding: We learn as we go, but we don’t learn unless we put in the effort to do so.

We all know it takes more strength to be kind and to love anyway than to run. But if I didn’t run from my demented mother who randomly beat me with a cane because of her disease, if I handled that and still did my job as a daughter and in the role I was thrust into as her death doula…and I did it mostly on my own (because I was dealing with absent people and also still blocking spirit and blessings for so long), I can handle just about anything, right?

((Please note, there is a difference between running from yourself because of self-doubt and walking away from toxicity because of self-confidence. There’s always two sides to these memes. There’s always two sides to everything – and often a lot of gray.))

Personally, I am really struggling with a lot of negative and toxic emotions toward my body right now – and with a lot of negative and toxic energy surrounding me. The things my body and I have faced in the past two years have been unforgiving at times, almost suffocating at others. They’ve been so difficult, and continue to be in some moments. But that’s the thing. It’s moments. You learn to rest in the moments that you have to – especially in the moments that you NEED to – but not give up completely.

You learn to be ok with the fact that venting your fears and anger and concerns about things is NOT always “just complaining” and it’s not being ungrateful. It’s COPING. It’s figuring things out. It’s keeping your own balance. Because you can’t thrive in ANY way without balance. You learn that a response of kindness and empathy and gentleness is more powerful than a response of coldness and lack of depth.

After all, look at nature – what’s more beautiful and pleasant? The colors, the beauty, and the warmth of spring and summer and fall or the harshness and bone chilling cold of winter? Can winter be beautiful? Sure. But is it as pleasant and comfortable and conducive to joy? No – that’s why so many people struggle with seasonal affective disorder.

You very literally see that the people who told you throughout your life that you have to be good with yourself before you can be good with anyone else, and that you won’t have true peace until you do the work to heal yourself, was telling you the truth. You won’t ever find peace of mind and true and lasting joy in your soul until you learn to sit in the darkness and kill it with your own inner light and magic. And you have that. You ARE that. You are magic. You are made of literal “stardust,” for Christ’s sake.

Shine like you’re supposed to. Don’t let your circumstances and your old wounds or should have could have would haves or even the opinions and actions of others put out your light and stop you from sparkling like the diamond you’re supposed to become under pressure. If my mom’s stuff taught me anything, it was the harsh reality of that. Pressure and pain can grow you into a brilliant diamond or petrify you into a bland and plain stone.

Don’t let it be the latter. Don’t let your heart become petrified and your mind become stagnant. You aren’t here to be a rock, or you’d have been created as a rock that just lays there on the ground and does nothing. You’re here to LIVE. Not just survive, LIVE. In order to do that, you have to mind the diamonds – you HAVE TO DO THE WORK.

As I find myself struggling with my body, and with random triggers of mom grief (that’s a whole other blog) I’m not making the same mistakes I’ve made in the past and choosing to hide away or beat myself up (and thus, others). I’m going to continue to grow and one day I’m going to bloom, and y’all are all going to watch me do it. Actions speak louder than words, even as loud as words can be screamed.

I’ve been here before but I’ve learned and grown. After my last episode with my health, with depression and the thoughts that ran through my head, I’m terrified of only one thing: dying knowing I haven’t given all I could give or done the work I needed to do to live well and in peace and thus bring peace and joy to others. But, that work I can only do that for myself, with my own choices and actions. It’s a conscious choice we have to make over and over in our lives.

It was a conscious choice with a lot of conscious effort behind it to fight my body’s BS before, to fight depression, to fight my self doubt, to heal traumas and wrongs inside myself – especially around my mom so that I could care for her when there was no one else to do so. The shadow work had to be done. I took my little soul chainsaw and cleaned out the vines and the poison ivy and the dead trees of my past and my experiences and do you know what I find, over and over again? Baby trees. New growth that needs room to become.

There are stumps and scars in the garden of my soul that still feel tender sometimes but they remind me that I CAN heal and I have many times. The more times you go through this process, the more you learn to listen to spirit and see the signs and open up the natural spiritual gifts that we all have, the more you realize that nothing is ever in your control and that most of the time, when you stand like the oak, you’re standing in your own way.

You realize that when you break, that oak is gonna fall hard and it’s gonna crush anything in its way, and you’re going to be the one who has destroyed all the good you couldn’t see while you were fighting for more more more and fighting to look strong and hide your truth and avoid other people rather than to be your authentic self and to SHOW UP, for yourself AND for those you care about.

Vulnerability bends. Vulnerability can move with the moment – it can handle the pressure without breaking. It gives, it sways with the energy. And when the hurricanes and tornadoes and even the weight of the winter ice come, it can withstand them, because in reality? Softness is stronger than hardness when it comes to humanity and the soul.

It’s a metaphor we’ve been presented with eleventy hundred times in eleventy hundred ways in our lives: The oak is the ego. The willow is the soul. Don’t let your ego break you and those you care for. Don’t let your ego block your blessings and destroy your soul. Your peace and your heart (and the peace and hearts of others) are worth way more than that. Keep it open.

The more you give, the more you receive – even if it doesn’t come from where you are directing it. Life will surprise you. Let it surprise you with gifts, not problems. And remember, you create so much of both in the tiniest actions and choices you make.

Un-expectations. | Deep Love

First of all, this post is not an April Fool’s joke. That’s just how ironic and hilarious my life likes to work out.

I saw this and it led to thoughts. Since I have nothing better to do besides lay here right now, and read and write, I thought, “let me share my thoughts…”

“Deep Love

You cannot touch the depths of another until you have touched the depths of your own soul.

If you love yourself for your achievements, your current assets, the way you do things and handle the world—and despise yourself for failure in the same—it follows that your relationship with another will also be transient and superficial.

To achieve deep and lasting love of another person, you need to first experience the depth within yourself—an inner core that doesn’t change with time or events.

If it is the true essence, it is an essence shared by the other person as well, and deep love becomes unavoidable.

Rabbi Tzvi Freeman”

The thoughts this led to on this unexpected day?

I may not have time for material things anymore. And I’m ok with that. All I’ve ever wanted was to love and be loved – not necessarily romantically or in any specific way…just respected. And right now, unrelated to this shared post, really, I’m in love with my doctor in a professional way because he is being forthright, knows not to hide his concerns from me, and is concerned to the point that he doesn’t want me admitted because of my immune system so he’s given me tools and explained all the precautions so that I can be at home.

Instead of scaring me or belittling my intelligence or undermining my own concerns, he makes me proud to be intelligent and aware and doesn’t answer my questions with phrases like, “you just let me worry about that,” or, “we don’t need to get into definitions or science.” He WANTS me to be at the same level as him because if it comes down to a person’s life, why wouldn’t they? His job is to care for me and to do everything in his power to help me to recover. He doesn’t take me for granted as just another patient. He knows my body after all these years but he also knows I know my body better than anyone does and he respects that.

He asks me more questions than I ask him, and we work TOGETHER – it’s not like other doctors people tell me about that they’ve dealt with. It’s not like, “I’m the doctor, do what I say.” It’s more like, “you’re my patient, let’s discuss options and treatments and risks and concerns and fears and how we can combat possible and current difficulties.” He makes want to fight, he makes me better. Even just his voice on the Emergency On Call line this morning took me from panic to immediate calm. “Be at the office at 8, we’re going to handle this in the office before we do in the hospital.” He fights for me. Because of that, I feel strong enough to fight for myself.

And, we laugh. A LOT. Darkly. 😬🤣 He understands me (and enjoys my personality) that way.

THAT is the kind of relationship you pray for with your doctor. He loves his patients deeply – because healing and helping them is his passion, and purpose – not just his “job.” I may be very sick and dealing with some possible very high risks, but I am also so very blessed. 😭🙏🙏🙏

I learned…

You have the power to overcome conditioning –
especially conditioning you’ve done to yourself…
Patterns.
Obstacles.
Regrets.
Even fears.
It takes bravery, but it rests within you.
Be compassionate toward yourself,
Believe and see – you have the ability to heal the wounds that bring your anger,
that slice you open,
that feel like ghosts who just won’t follow the light and leave you be…
Forgiveness of self,
understanding is yours…
Now take the reigns and seek the changes,
do not doubt,
do not fear.
Know that you can change these patterns –
thoughts,
wants,
expectations of self…
You can do so much,
you can pray so much,
you can love so much –
others and yourself.
But
life will always happen
on life’s terms.
There is no other way.
Understand that no matter what you have chosen
or what you choose,
what you know,
or think you know,
what you wish for,
or what you loathe,
life will rise and fall,
come and go.
There is true peace to be found,
and felt…
but only within yourself,
and only when you let go and allow it…
only when you give yourself the opportunity
and the gift you need…
Only you know what that is.
It’s the only way.
~C.

Death, Grief and Inexplicable Nightmares

Ugh. Nightmares. I’m just about tired of them.

It does NOT phase me to be with someone when they die. I mean, I don’t see it as a negative experience. I’m good at being fully present for another person’s death. I’m good at opening my heart. Letting the energy flow. I’m good at holding hands and holding space and saying the words that you say to dying people, helping them to let go. Lord knows I’ve done it enough times.

It does NOT freak me out or make me uncomfortable to be around dying people. I know it’s part of life. It doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t make me feel weird or distressed.

In fact, death is one of the most peaceful things I’ve ever been around, in the moment that it takes place. It’s the getting there that is hard and sometimes scary and painful. It’s the living part that is hard. And the grieving. The being “left.” Dying? Dying is easy.

Everything goes quiet – even amongst all the noise, whether it’s chaos or just the whines and whooshes of machines that surround it. Everything goes still for that one, solitary moment…the one when you hold your breath as you wait to see if they’re going to take another one…and then, when they don’t…the release of your own long held inhalation.

I have seen them leave, and I always wonder where they go. What’s really next…? Are they still there, in a different plane of existence? Did they see a light? Did they know they were dying? Did they see something beautiful, or did they see nothing at all?

I mean, there are gross things about it – certain smells and things they do sometimes at the moment after dying, as the body releases them…it’s not “pretty” all the time but it’s not…it’s not that terrible to me, that moment. In that moment, they have something I don’t have: real peace, and the knowledge of what comes next. It’s relief. It’s that final endeavor of living.

I find death to be one of the most precious moments you can share with another human being. And so very often, it feels like a gift…

So why these nightmares. Why? My therapist says I’ve been through a multiple year long trauma that ended with holding another person’s hand as they died. I don’t feel like I’ve been through a trauma. I feel like I shouldn’t be having nightmares. Especially not ones in which my kid is dying.

Maybe I AM losing my mind. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m the only one left of that little family unit that was my family unit all my life. No grandparents. No parents. No brothers or sisters…or are there, somewhere? Maybe that’s it… The fact that I was adopted never phased me, until now. I never really had questions. I never really wondered. I just knew that I was blessed to have a home and to be loved. Not that I’m not now… I just…as we ease up on the one month mark since my mom’s death, something weird is happening inside of me.

WTF, dude. I don’t know…

Excerpts from counseling chats, #1

The last few years culminated into feeling like a dream for the last several months – I have literally survived, I realize now, by living in a whole non-reality, on autopilot, and there are very few everyday experiences and mundane daily tasks that I do now without being in an almost confused state. Like, “what is this?” or, “how did I ever do that…I don’t remember…”

I am beginning to realize that I actually exist – and can exist – as a being separate from continuous worry and fear about/for my mother, and I have completely forgotten how to be that person. I still wake up some mornings, if I’m not already at my moms, with this programmed state of, “I have to go check on my mother,” being the first literal and conscious thought in my head. Even if I stay there, which I haven’t been able to peacefully do yet, I find myself in the mindset that I have to get up every few hours to check and feel guilty when I wake up and think I forgot to set alarms to wake up.

Everyone says, “it’s got to be such a relief, though, since she died…” It is, in some ways. But in others, it is the same, just different, level of stress to readjust to “normal,” which is difficult now anyway because WHAT IS NORMAL in a world of COVID? I focus myself on cleaning and doing what needs to be done before anything else (music, photography, etc.) when the things I used to do I was only able to do mindlessly, really – just as a distraction from insanity.

I don’t know if this will make sense to anyone who reads. It has to sound like the ravings of a lunatic mind – but as I’m remembering my intelligent, creative, indulgent, passionate, and subconscious mind I find myself feeling everything from confusion to guilt to elating freedom to even complete blankness and emptiness.

It’s not the grief. Well, it’s partially that but only about 3/4. I don’t know, in this moment, WHAT the word or feeling or experience is. I remember going to through it to some extent after Dorie died and I had been such an integral part of taking care of her, but it wasn’t the same as this, nor was the care.

24/7 worry and anxiety about someone for years, and then 24/7 for months – even to the point of every single daily task they needed to do and then to the point of helping them through every moment of their death…it’s a completely different experience to readjust to existing without that task attached to your back when it was there for so long.

So yeah, you’d think it’d be lighter, more peaceful existence…but it’s actually more like a feeling of chaos. I hope like hell it doesn’t last long. I have too much to do – and, too much I want to do. I assume it will last through and a bit beyond probate because that limits me on the speed at which I can chose to move forward and move on… If it were up to me, I’d snap my fingers and life and the “me” I was “pre-Alzheimer’s parent” would click right back into place.

We don’t get into any state of being in the blink of an eye and we become the next version of ourselves even less quickly, I suppose. That’s been my past experience. So trudge along and get it done, I guess… ((Yawn.))

🤷‍♀️

The End of the Road (Last Blog Before My Mother Died)

TW: the dying experience. Do not read further if you can’t deal with that kind of reality, or if you’ve had a recent loss that this will gnaw at…







Seriously, I’m going to share this reality so don’t keep reading if you’re not comfortable with this type of thing. This is my coping mechanism. To write. To share with those who can handle and understand it. To feel like my support system is with me…







This morning around 3:30am my mom’s oxygen started dropping. First it was 92. Then it was 90. Then it was 88. Then it was 85. She kept yanking the oxygen away. I stuck it in her mouth until the higher dose of morphine kicked in and she relaxed. Then, I put it back in her nose.

I called the after hours line. I was told I was doing everything I needed to be. I mean, it’s kind of common sense at this point, after the others, for me – but that doesn’t mean adrenaline and norepinephrine don’t fly and dopamine and seratonin don’t plummet…and you need that reassurance because you second guess. You feel responsible for more than comfort. You feel responsible for the pain, too. You can’t help it.

I cranked the oxygen up to 3. I started giving half doses of morphine every 30 minutes. Her chest would rise when she gasped, then cave in. Then the fluid rattle started again with her shallow breaths.

She would draw up in a fetal position, moaning and gasping, still with oxygen in her nose but oxygen levels still rising and falling at will because of the mouth breathing and the breath holding and the inability to get enough oxygen with the fluid.

She has not eaten in 12 days. She has not drank in 3 days. She is in the final phase of the dying process. I knew that. I know that. But nothing prepares you for that. I am grateful that she is home, and that I moved here. I am grateful that it is not the nursing home I fought for, or the hospital, where I likely couldn’t be with her…where she would be alone.

I have laid with her – some would say a gift, and I agree…though in the moment it doesn’t feel like one. I suppose it will one day, just like with both my grandmothers, my Daddy, and Dorie, and pets… I held her hand. I cried silent tears, watching her face grimace and her eyes open with the moans only to reveal cloudy, lifeless eyes. I waited patiently for the nurse.

The nurse came at 8:30. Upon assessment, the things are happening. The limbs are cooling. The bp is dropping. The heart rate is rising. The temperature is rising as her core fights to hang on. All the things.

It could be today, it could be three days. It could be a week – probably not longer than that, because of the lack of food and fluid. I have chosen to make her comfort the priority, with oxygen, and liquid morphine and Ativan. Myself and the doctor have chosen to forego the feeding tube, and IV fluids. There is no point in drawing it out, and a DNR is a DNR – all those things are at this point are life support. She doesn’t want that. It’s documented. I will not allow myself to feel guilty for those choices. She made them long ago – not me.

But it’s not easy. It’s not a happy choice. It’s not a good choice, in many’s eyes, I’m sure – but for her it is the right choice. And I will live with having to make it for the rest of my life. But I will also live for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be, knowing I’ve done all I could and what we felt was best for her. She has fought me tooth and nail, even changing the locks to keep me out of the house and away from her business, and now she groans when I’m not there. My, how things change. How they heal. How they induce growth. How they make you a different person.

I have been many different people the past year and a half, through the worst of all of this – some not always graceful, some quite angry, some extremely depressed…and now, regardless of the amount of time left, I feel nothing but…strength. Courage. And love.

I will see you all on the flip side… Love one another. Be kind. And live with an open heart. 🙏❤️