Friday, October 23, 2015

LETTER TO MYSELF (PART ONE)

Dear You:

October 23, 2009. I was having a release party for my new album, No Preservatives. I had done albums before, but this felt big. It was executive produced by none other than Young Gem. I had some of Dallas’ very best artists on this project with me. My project manager, Joyia, went above and beyond to have a gala event. Even my baby momma was coming. I was pumped. This day was special to me because my grandfather had passed October 22nd 2 years prior, but it was also my grandmother’s birthday. This was my dedication to her that her grandson was doing well. All the hard work, the sweat, the grind was paying off. As the titled addressed, this was an album I felt was pure; nothing but my soul and drive, compiled to 16 songs of heat. This was my night.

The event itself has some turmoil but I didn’t care. This was the one day I was going to put everything behind me and give the crowd a memory. And did we have fun. We were turnt up before turnt up was a word. Friends, family, coworkers, fans, and strangers were all impressed with the event and I couldn’t have been more proud.  All the way home to Lewisville, I just knew my grandparents would be happy for me. I was beaming from ear to ear. It was truly a success!

  I probably got home about 3:30 that night.  I was still excited. This day was supposed to be life changing for me. My rap career was taking off. Even the owner of the M Street Bar, the club where we held the party, was ecstatic about the night. I laid in bed, high off the accomplishment, and appreciating the love I felt. Then my phone rang. It was my Aunt Tootie. I looked at the time and it was 4:37 in the morning. THIS CAN NOT BE GOOD. As I answered, I could feel the pain in her voice and with every word, breathe was sucked out of me into an almost comatose state. She called to informed me that my grandmother had a heart attack and she was hospitalized. I died that day. She ended the call with a “Don’t Worry”, but it was too late. I went to work the next Monday and took some time off so I could go see my grandmother.

I remember our last talk we had when I went home to Flint. Thinking back, it felt like closure. She was at peace with her condition and even though she told me she would be getting out soon, she also knew I couldn’t just drive back to Michigan at the drop of a dime. She had to tell me something to get me to come back. I knew it too. Her soulmate passed almost 2 yrs to the date and I can only imagine how hard it was for her to live without him. She needed to be with him and I didn’t need to be so jealous. I had to let go. On December 6, 2009, Mary Louise Barker and Jamar Jones were both pronounced dead- her in the physical, the latter in a mental and emotional form.

Why did God take them from me so soon? We were just getting to a place where  they were accepting of me and my gifts!  Why did she lie to me? Why did she tell me she was going to be ok when she knew she wasn’t? When she knew I wasn’t going to be ok? Why couldn’t they just wait until I was ready for them to die?? Why couldn’t I die instead of them? These questions filled my brain. They still do. How could they leave me so close together, knowing the pain I have every fucking year?! HOW COULD THEY?! Ever since that moment of life, I have been scared to love. And scared to let anyone love me.

I wasn’t the favorite kid, the smartest, the most handsome, the most gifted or most likely to succeed kid. Ever since I could remember, it has just been me.  Yeah, I’ve had friends, but they’ve left me. Family wasn’t the tightest group. I was the first male born into our family and was penalized for it. I didn’t do the things other kids did. I worked, went to school, and Kudos. My grandmother, who was the bread winner, gave me necessities. They didn’t teach me birds and bees, they taught me to work.  It wasn’t until I left for college that they saw something in me. Unfortunately, my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s shortly after I left my hometown. Grandma took care of him, not letting him go into a home and wither away. He lived a happy life, even in peril. When I would go home, he would speak to me as if he knew me. He just didn’t know my name or what relationship I was to him. For 7 years I struggled with the terms of this agreement- my grandfather was going to die soon. Being the oldest man and not being there was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. I couldn’t quit school and be risked called a failure, especially for something that was inevitable. In the end, I feel like I let both of them down. If I would have went back home, maybe grandma would still be alive, having the comfort of one of her boys around the house, talking to her and making her feel safe. Maybe if I would have visited more instead of being scared of what my actions 5 years ago would bring? Being out of Flint, gave me new life. No one looked at me as a failure. No one told me I wouldn’t amount to anything. Going back to Flint would have brought back my pains, my loneliness, my struggles to do good. I was one of the few that made it out successfully and alive, why would I want to go back to that? 
          
Every day I think about it. There is not one day that goes by that I don’t think about what I could’ve done to have them here. Even though it was God’s will, I feel like it’s my fault. Again. AND that’s why I must tell you this……………


                                (turn on back)

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