This year has been the most troubling time of my life. Many times, I wondered: How will I make it through? How do I heal from a painful breakup? How do I recreate myself at 50 while living with a chronic illness? At these times my mother’s voice echoes in my head: Give it to God. He is not going to give you more than you can handle. I was ashamed to voice what I was feeling on the inside. How strong do you want me to be, God? What are you preparing me for?
I stopped feeling sorry for myself and realized I had survived worse things. I remember how difficult it was, coming out at the age of 13 in the early 1980s. I thought I was the only little girl that liked girls. There was no Ellen DeGeneres or Wanda Sykes to look up to. My role models were fabulous gay men and beautiful drag queens. They taught me how to be courageous and resilient. I survived being disowned by my father because of whom I chose to love. What little girl doesn’t want the unconditional love of her daddy? I survived being molested by two family members at very young age. After all these years, I am still baffled by the dysfunctional dynamics of the “black family” and the “black church” when it comes to sexual identity. Those institutions scorn my existence and that of the LGBTQ community but hide and protect pedophiles, generation after generation.
I am enduring a divorce that has shaken me to my core. My heart was broken but I refuse to allow my spirit to follow suit. Although I did not experience the death of a loved one, I experienced the death of a love I thought would be my last. I am blessed that my mother is still on this earth; I can hear her voice even when she is not near. She would say: Whenever there is a death, something else is reborn.
One evening I was in a deep funk. I lay in the dark asking God to send me a miracle. Then my son Kyle FaceTimed me and I pulled the covers from over my head and tried not to look as miserable as I felt. Before he opened his mouth, I sensed something different about him. When you are connected to your children, you know when something isn’t right. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He was hesitant. “What are you doing, Ma?”
I sat up. “Resting. What’s wrong?” He hesitated.
“You are going to be a grandmother.” Katie, Kyle’s girlfriend of four years, was sitting beside him. I didn’t address her but I saw the solemn look on her face. My heart was in my throat. What were they doing? I was not in the mood for jokes. “That’s not funny, Kyle,” I said of their unusual demeanors. Then I saw the tears in Katie’s eyes, and my own eyes suddenly welled with tears of recognition.
My son’s voice cracked. “Are you not happy?”
In an unconscious gesture, I put my hand over my mouth as I tried to speak through my tears. “Are you happy?” I asked.
He smiled and said, “Yes.”
I cried and laughed at the same time. “Then, I’m happy.” I waited with bated breath as they answered all my questions: How far along are you, Katie? Have you told your father and other mother, Kyle?” My son laughed as I talked non-stop about their upcoming blessed event.
I hung up the phone and felt a peace I had never known. As usual, my mother was right. Whenever there is a death, something else is reborn. It was true for my son as well as for me.
Although he is a grown man, Kyle too had suffered the death of our family unit. I respect his relationship with his other mother as I allow them to redefine their relationship. He took our separation hard and had to make some difficult decisions. I was happy for him when he recently landed a new position in a fast-growing and lucrative corporation. I haven’t seen him this excited since he graduated from college. I recalled how he had been afraid to tell me and his other mother about Katie. They had known each other since high school, yet he was worried about introducing her to us because she already had a 3-year-old son. We knew he really liked her when he told her he had two mothers.
“We wouldn’t judge her because she’s a single mother. You know us better than that,” I told him at the time. “I was a single mother when I and your mother decided we would all be a family. Our only concern is you're spending time with the baby. Children are very impressionable. What happens if we become attached to her and the baby and y’all break up? You would expect us to break up with her and the baby. He wouldn’t understand and that wouldn’t be fair to him.”
As with most new relationships, Kyle and Katie experienced some growing pains. I could only speak for myself when, during a rough spot between them, I told my son, “Well, I hope y’all work it out because, after three years, I'm not breaking up with her or the baby!"
Katie is the daughter I never had. I see so much of myself in her. She was determined to be a good mother while working, dating, and going back to school—all while trying to find herself. Her son stole my heart a long time ago.
Now I was tortured by having to keep the new baby a secret until Kyle told his father and his other mother. I was over the moon when I called home to tell my 89-year-old grandmother that she was going to have her first great-great-granddaughter. She was just as ecstatic. She asked, “What is she going to call you?”
"Nana, please,” I laughed. “I am going to be an old-school grandmother.
I don't like that new-fangled ‘Glamma’ or ‘GMa’ stuff. I am a Nana, all day long!”
She giggled and said, “I’m so happy to hear that.”
Today my heart is overflowing with gratitude. Katie and Kyle’s birthdays are one day apart this month. This Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s will be different. I can never top this gift they are blessing me with. I am grateful that I am still alive to welcome my granddaughter into this world. I glimpse at myself in the mirror and marvel at the silver streaks in my hair. I realize that growing older is a gift denied to many. I cannot wait to meet that little girl. I think about her every day. I daydream of smelling her scent as I cradle her in my arms. She has no idea what a blessing she is. One day, I will tell her.
Monika M. Pickett is a veteran of the United States Army. She is an Advocate and Activist for the LGBTQ community. Her debut novel, Pretty Boy Blue is available on Amazon. For more information on Monika M. Pickett, please visit, www.MonikaMPickett.com. For other inquiries email info@MonikaMPickett.com.