Grieving

Shout to those of us grieving Toni Morrison's death like we lost a close family member, except she wasn't family and we never met her. It still hurts. A...relationship we cherished is gone. Or, exists in a different way. I talked to her often. In my head but still...we kicked it. She got me. She understood me as a writer and poet and mother and woman and day to day survivor of shit in this goddamn country. She never felt sorry for me or saw me as someone who needed saving. She knew I was a badass woman and she was the baddest of asses. See, we had a whole thing going. I never said I wasn't crazy. Whatever. Toni Morrison was my college. I learned about dedication to the craft of writing from her. I challenged myself to put my work out there anyway because of her. Many years ago I dated a man who told me that he didn't like the way I would go somewhere in my head, somewhere he couldn't reach me. Well, I'm a fucking writer and that's what the fuck we do and I bet Toni did it too so fuck off. Anyway, you don't see him anywhere around. Toni stuck around though. She helped me process pain. She helped me write through depression and mania. There were days I knew I was going to die. There were days I knew I was going to swallow all of the pills. And there was Toni telling me to write through that shit instead. And I did. Every single day I wrote through that shit instead. And my days weren't always dark. And she was there like, bitch, see. Because you know...Toni. Anyway family, I see you. No one is going to send you a card or no shit like that but I see you. She would want us to keep going. Hugs loves.