31 Moments of Meeting The Divine Masculine. A Father’s Day Tribute.
The past few days have been emotionally heavy. I find myself fighting to get around these feelings at times instead of wanting to move through them. I was angry. I saw a Facebook memory that reminded me that this time last year, we were transitioning my mother from the West Coast back to her hometown, Chicago.
The transition came with a lot of uncertainty but something I knew we needed to do, and we needed to do it right then. I felt a strong spiritual tug that getting Mama back home was the next necessary step in our hospice journey. I prayed for a peaceful transition. I prayed for Mama to be surrounded by love and care as she began to make her exit from this world. I prayed for the healing of my fears around her death so I could be present until the last moment.
The truth is, this time of year birthed a lion in me. This time of year turned me into someone I have never seen before. It brought out more nurturing, tenderness, and intuitive listening than I’ve ever experienced. As I look back on what has been a rough week, these are the gifts in this memory that I could not see.
I also began my process of releasing my father’s name as my maiden name (read about it at the hyperlink) and integrating my grandfather’s last name: Webb. It was a rough feeling being uprooted in this way. At a point, I had to pause the transition because I couldn’t bear any more change after Mama passed. A little time went by, and I was able to resume with clarity and intention.
What started in anger has settled into an act of release,liberation and healing for me and for my bloodline.
I feel a deep sense of love for my father, for my New Orleans, Creole roots. I feel immense empathy for this man who raised himself from a young age while escaping the abuse he endured from his father. At a point, I remember him also choosing to release his father’s name; I guess my transition is only appropriate coming from such a headstrong man. I feel sorrow for the ways in which he won’t physically be a part of my life and a deep knowing that he is here with us always.
So here I am today, a little less angry at the world and a little more tender. Today I want to offer you all Thirty-one moments where I met the divine masculine. I encourage you, especially if you have challenges with Father’s Day, to make a little list of moments where you are grateful for the men and masculine energy flowing through your life. This did my heart good and of course, my list actually expanded as thinking of the positive moments helped my body and mind remember more of them.
Happy Father’s Day, Messy Movers.
Watching my husband do anything literally brings joy to my heart. But my absolute favorite is anytime I have a chance to dance with him anywhere in the world. From the grocery store to the beachside. I love that he will always take that moment to find my hand.
Watching my father-in-law love on his kids with such excitement, joy, and tenderness. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so close to a man who loved his babies like this. It is healing to witness.
Seeing my husband’s grandfather stepping, looking sharp, and dancing with his daughters. Telling us stories from back in the day.
I think of watching my mentor Anthony, who I affectionately called Uncle Anthony, taking me for my first driving lesson on the highway. Mama was following behind us on the road; Anthony was playing music and singing; my knuckles were definitely white.
Seeing Black men on Instagram love on their children through quality time, caregiving, and playfulness. My favorite genre of content on the internet.
Seeing my nephews with their uncles and the way their personalities just bloom.
Watching men I know become fathers for the first time.
Thinking about my mom and dad laughing together over The Three Stooges.
Thinking about every home-cooked meal my grandpa made for me after school (I’m talking greens, mac and cheese, sweet potatoes, and chicken), only for me to ask for a peanut butter and jelly.
I think about my grandfather’s love for my mother.
Thinking about my cousin Kevin who, no matter what, always made space to help Mama keep the yard, fix things around the house, and just share the neighborhood gossip.
Thinking of my cousin Kevin and my dad trying to set up my bike for the first time and failing. I was pedaling and going nowhere.
I think about my mom’s best guy friends showing up for me during her funeral services to play the benediction. Seeing tears in their eyes as they said goodbye.
I think of my pastor growing up, Pastor Wright, and the way he intentionally loved on my brother, picked him up for church sometimes just to make sure he could stay connected to the church during the turbulence that was happening at home.
I think of my mentor Anthony and the way he reminded me that it is possible to be ALL of myself and that God loves all of me.
Watching my husband cook some of my favorite meals and even sometimes from scratch.
I think of Rev. Jacobs from my home church and the way he embraced me and dialogued with me when I just knew that I was “leaving the church.” He didn’t judge me or push me, but he made space to listen.
I think about resting my head on my husband’s chest, especially on the days when my heart feels undone and pummeled by anxiety.
Thinking of the care, nurturing, and guidance we received from one of my husband’s good friends. Creating space for us to have a rest residency on eight acres of southern land so we could reset our vision.
I think of Pastor Wright showing up for Mama’s services, melting my heart.
Watching my husband embrace his younger brothers and their pure excitement to just be around each other.
Watching my husband with one of his mentees over the years and just the way he consistently shows up to be in their journey no matter their age.
Thinking about my guy friends who loved my mom endlessly, spending time with her on the phone when she initially became ill at the top of the pandemic.
Thinking about our elder neighbor who, while making his point to be very right-wing playing Fox News, looked out for us and gave us plenty to laugh about.
I think about my friend’s dad who took us in last year during our time transitioning my mom back to Chicago. He fed us, gave me a much-needed drink, and laughter to last a lifetime.
I think of Pastor Moss and his wife embracing my husband and me when we came back to visit my church home for the first time in years with Mama.
I think about my brother and how Mama would always tell me the story that he asked for a little sister.
I think about the pictures of my father and me when I was a little girl, seeing him hold me, so big and protective over me.
I think about, during his last years, him showing me that he’d been carrying my flyer for my class around in his pocket for years.
I think about hearing his voice randomly after he passed and running through the store trying to find the source of the voice yelling, “What’s your nationality!?”
I think of my husband floating across the room when my mother passed, doing all the steps in our transition plan to ensure safe passage into the next dimension. I think of the way he has held all the pieces, my pieces, our pieces together this past year so I could grieve the end of this journey with my mom and my journey as a caregiver.
This Father’s Day blended with all the feelings of longing and sadness, I find some beautiful feelings of awe, praise, healing, and gratitude.
I want to remember these moments forever.
