You have carried unimaginable weight with grace, holding your family together even while facing your own fear and grief. The way you stood steady for Malakai, your daughter, and your family is nothing short of heroic.
Grief doesn’t diminish your strength.......it reveals it. The courage you show isn’t loud or flashy; it’s the quiet, enduring kind that holds, comforts, and sustains. Your ability to continue living, loving, and being present in the face of profound loss is inspiring.
Your words touched me deeply. Thank you for seeing both the weight and the courage it took to carry it. Malakai’s love still lights my path, and I’m grateful you felt that through my story.
I am in awe of your strength. It may not feel like strength some days, and I don't ever want to walk that path, but I can both see and hear it in you. I'm grateful to you for sharing your story with all of us. I believe stories like yours are a healing balm.
Jabari, thank you for this. You’re right... some days it doesn’t feel like strength at all, but I’m learning that even showing up in the grief is its own kind of courage. If my story can serve as a balm for others walking their own hard paths, then Malakai’s light keeps shining. I’m grateful you’re here.
My grief wasn't due to loss of life. It was learning that I hadn't protected my children from SA, and the subsequent pain of that knowledge, the betrayal by a community I'd trusted, and the long journey of accompanying my children on their healing journey.
From 2008 until about 2020, I experienced so many emotions while processing it all. Intense anger, a deep sense of loss of family and community, abandonment, sadness, guilt.
First, I ran away. I needed to go find my sense of self that I'd lost along the way. When I returned, I immersed myself in work to help others avoid such pain or to learn to deal with it, while still holding it together for me and mine. I didn't have the luxury of falling apart. Therapy helped. A lot. My entire life perspective changed, shaping me into a woman I never expected to be. It's been hard, but I cherish every battle wound and scar.
Today, 17 years later, we're all in a much better place. Still on our journey of healing, growing, evolving and becoming better than we were the day before. Some days or seasons are easier than others, but we all wake and give gratitude for who we have become.
Racayah, whew… your testimony is fire. 🔥 Thank you for laying bare the depth of your journey, the rage, the scars, the healing...all of it.
What you walked through with your children is a grief of its own, and the woman you’ve become because of it shines with a strength that can’t be faked. I honor the way you turned pain into purpose and battle wounds into wisdom.
Love you much, Sis, and I’m grateful you restacked and shared your voice here.
Joi, your words hold such depth in the midst of a sorrow no one should ever have to endure. Losing your grandson is a heartbreak beyond measure, yet you write with such honesty and strength, allowing others to feel seen in their own grief. My heart is also with your daughter as she carries the weight of this loss, and I hope she feels your love holding her steady. Your willingness to share this part of your heart is a gift, and I hope you feel surrounded by love and gentleness as you continue to ride these waves.
Shartaya, your words are a welcome balm. Thank you for holding space for both me and my daughter in this grief. I pray my sharing does help others feel seen, and your gentleness means more than you know.
You’re so welcome. I’m truly grateful you’ve allowed me to walk with you in this tender season, and your openness is already bringing comfort to others who may feel alone.
You have carried unimaginable weight with grace, holding your family together even while facing your own fear and grief. The way you stood steady for Malakai, your daughter, and your family is nothing short of heroic.
Grief doesn’t diminish your strength.......it reveals it. The courage you show isn’t loud or flashy; it’s the quiet, enduring kind that holds, comforts, and sustains. Your ability to continue living, loving, and being present in the face of profound loss is inspiring.
Your words touched me deeply. Thank you for seeing both the weight and the courage it took to carry it. Malakai’s love still lights my path, and I’m grateful you felt that through my story.
... in themselves because they demonstrate that grief is a part of the human experience.
I am in awe of your strength. It may not feel like strength some days, and I don't ever want to walk that path, but I can both see and hear it in you. I'm grateful to you for sharing your story with all of us. I believe stories like yours are a healing balm.
Jabari, thank you for this. You’re right... some days it doesn’t feel like strength at all, but I’m learning that even showing up in the grief is its own kind of courage. If my story can serve as a balm for others walking their own hard paths, then Malakai’s light keeps shining. I’m grateful you’re here.
Todah for sharing and also for prompting us to explore how grief has impacted our own lives. Love you much.
My grief wasn't due to loss of life. It was learning that I hadn't protected my children from SA, and the subsequent pain of that knowledge, the betrayal by a community I'd trusted, and the long journey of accompanying my children on their healing journey.
From 2008 until about 2020, I experienced so many emotions while processing it all. Intense anger, a deep sense of loss of family and community, abandonment, sadness, guilt.
First, I ran away. I needed to go find my sense of self that I'd lost along the way. When I returned, I immersed myself in work to help others avoid such pain or to learn to deal with it, while still holding it together for me and mine. I didn't have the luxury of falling apart. Therapy helped. A lot. My entire life perspective changed, shaping me into a woman I never expected to be. It's been hard, but I cherish every battle wound and scar.
Today, 17 years later, we're all in a much better place. Still on our journey of healing, growing, evolving and becoming better than we were the day before. Some days or seasons are easier than others, but we all wake and give gratitude for who we have become.
Racayah, whew… your testimony is fire. 🔥 Thank you for laying bare the depth of your journey, the rage, the scars, the healing...all of it.
What you walked through with your children is a grief of its own, and the woman you’ve become because of it shines with a strength that can’t be faked. I honor the way you turned pain into purpose and battle wounds into wisdom.
Love you much, Sis, and I’m grateful you restacked and shared your voice here.
Joi, your words hold such depth in the midst of a sorrow no one should ever have to endure. Losing your grandson is a heartbreak beyond measure, yet you write with such honesty and strength, allowing others to feel seen in their own grief. My heart is also with your daughter as she carries the weight of this loss, and I hope she feels your love holding her steady. Your willingness to share this part of your heart is a gift, and I hope you feel surrounded by love and gentleness as you continue to ride these waves.
Shartaya, your words are a welcome balm. Thank you for holding space for both me and my daughter in this grief. I pray my sharing does help others feel seen, and your gentleness means more than you know.
You’re so welcome. I’m truly grateful you’ve allowed me to walk with you in this tender season, and your openness is already bringing comfort to others who may feel alone.
Wow! That's all I've got.
Sometimes wow really is enough.