ARTISTIC JOURNEY
Oakland, California 2019
I was navigating the heart wrenching experience of supporting my close friend, Leah, through her battle with pancreatic cancer. Sitting with her for hours in small hospital rooms as she received her chemotherapy, trying to distract ourselves from the present situation by reminiscing over 25 years of life adventures, sisterhood and friendship. We were soul bonded as black women, as artists, as single mothers surviving, sometimes thriving in Oakland CA, raising our children in the city. We both had 3 children all around the same ages.
The weeks turned into months and the months spanned over 2 years time. The cancer was increasingly vicious. I watched my beloved, vibrant, hilarious, loving, multi talented, artistic, brilliant sister deteriorate before my eyes. Chemotherapy swole her cheeks while cancer thinned her body.
We would laugh and scandalize as we watched mindless ratchet reality TV shows, sit in silence and hold hands or whisper prayers with glazed over eyes pooling with tears afraid to drop.
"Sis am I dying?" she asked one day.
I couldn’t bring myself to verbalize a confirmation. My grip of her hand tightened. My throat caught.
"Sis, I want to see my grand baby…" (Leah’s youngest daughter was pregnant. It would be her daughter’s first birth and Leah’s second grandchild.)
I nodded in understanding.
"Sis, I am dying. I can’t believe this shit!" She said with disgust.
"You have to come back Sis on this side." I managed to mutter.
"I will Sis…. I’ll come back as Butterfly. I’ll check on you."
We laugh weakly and embraced.
I was by her beside 7 months later when she took her last breath. She was surrounded by her three daughters.
Greenfield, Massachusetts 2022
I’m at a butterfly sanctuary with my sister, Yvette. We are in awe as hundreds of magnificent butterflies float around the facility from plant to plant. It was like a magical fairyland, another dimension of wonder. The place warm and surreal. An Lacewing butterfly landed on my sister's forehead right on her 3rd eye and sat for about 30 seconds. It was a magical few seconds of awe.
About 20 minutes later as I stood looking over a little pond, a large Dead Leaf butterfly flew over to me and landed directly onto my heart. It was a surprising delight. More than a minute passed and I noticed my sister, Yvette, setting the timer on her phone. After about 3 minutes of this beautiful creature sitting on my chest, a warmth spilled over my body, a vibration, a knowing as my heart began to pound the tears began flowing down my cheeks. I looked at Yvette and she too was crying, it was obvious that we had the same understanding . This beautiful butterfly perched on my heart was Leah. My beloved friend. She had fulfilled her promise.
I moved slow and cautious through the sanctuary stunned by it’s presence. I gently sat down on a bench and the butterfly moved from my heart, up my neck over my lips, eyes and circled my entire face. When the Butterfly finally flew off I felt changed. I was both depleted and exhilarated. The butterfly had stayed with me for 58 minutes!
On our way out as we passed though the gift shop. I noticed packets of butterfly wings for sale. The cashier explained that some people use them for crafts or a souvenirs. Since the butterfly have short lives, the Sanctuary collects their wings after they die, freeze them to sterilize them, then package them for sale. The money earned from the wings help to fund the sanctuary. I bought 3 packs of butterfly wings that day.
Salisbury, Maryland 2022
My mother passed away when I was five years old. My father raised my sister and me in Salisbury, Maryland - a small town that I was eager to leave as a teen so I did; I moved to California at the age of 18. Full of hope and idealism.
After decades building a life in California, in 2020 I found myself back on the East Coast. I relocated to Massachusetts to support my youngest daughter who was pregnant with my first grandchild. That same year my father's health started to decline. While my mothering brought me back to the East Coast, I soon realized my daughterhood was needed as well. For three years I drove up and down the coast, from Massachusetts to Maryland, getting precious time back with my dad. During this time I was able to express my love to him and reconnect with my roots; I slept in my childhood bedroom, listened to the symphony of cicadas outside, discovered new photos of my late mother, and walked the wetlands of the Eastern Shore.
In August of 2022 my father passed away at the age of 88. Grappling with the reality of no longer having any living parents, I returned to Massachusetts filled with grief, gratitude, and an increased interest in who my father was as a person and admiration for the life he lived. Soon after, images of butterfly people began coming to me in my dreams.
August 10th, 2023 marked the one year anniversary of my father's passing. On that day I remembered those 3 packs of wings I'd saved from the butterfly sanctuary. In a state of mourning I felt a need to channel my grief, I gathered up my materials and made my first art piece on that day. Since then visions, dreams and ancestors continue to come to me like a tap on the shoulder, demanding my attention and I have no choice but to acquiesce. Because when ancestors speak you listen.