Milk and Cookie crew!

Saturday Surprise

Guess who I saw today?!

My nephew Justin, all dressed to impress, fresh from his visit and pictures with Santa Claus. Our porch visit was short but much enjoyed. I really needed that.

Good to see my sister too, of course! 

The day was dreary and rainy. But y'all made my day bright! 

And that's a good thing! 

Justin's School Projects. Oh Joy!

 So my nephew Justin started Pre-K this fall. 

It seems like he was just born yesterday. 

Time sure is flying. He is a big boy now. 

And he loves school. 

And he loves doing projects. 

This project was his first, where he made a poster about all the great things he did over the summer. 

I heard he read every sentence. Trips me out that he can read. 

The next project involved counting by 5s. 

 

He did such a good job. Go Justin!

The next project involved coloring the picture of a turkey that no one will eat. Justin's favorite superhero is Spiderman, so he dressed his turkey up as Spiderman.

"I like you turkey," I said. 

"Auntie, my Spiderman turkey has a booty."

*crickets*

I frowned. "Uh what?"

"My Spiderman turkey has a booty!"

"That's just the crease in the turkey's pants, Lee," my sister explained. 

Uh, Okay. LOL... 

That was funny as all get out. 

And we all know turkeys have bootys, so he is on to something. 

I am so very proud of him. He is so smart. I can't wait to discuss his future projects. 

Last Day of the Year, Part II: The Passing of My Mother

 This year, my mother died. 

We had her cremated, and we didn't have a service. 

"I would feel horrible if we had a funeral, and someone catches the covid at the funeral. This burying people back to back to back,..." my sister lamented. 

"I understand," I said. "That may be what's best. And I hope no one has a problem with you over it."

And she was right. Funerals have been known to be superspreaders.  I don't, and no one else, I reckon, wants the memory of someone catching covid at our mother's funeral. If someone got ill, or God forbid, died, that would be tatooed on our conscious forever. And let's not even talk about the guilt of it all. 

So there was no funeral. Hopefully there will be a memorial service when this is all over.

Although it has been four months since her passing, it is still mindboggling, since she has always been larger than life. 

I don't know how to feel about it. I still get teary-eyed over it from time to time, like, when I hear an old 70s song (she loved old school music).  She and I didn't have much of a relationship, and I'd only seen her on a regular basis over the past couple of years. I was doing all I could to help my sister Kay, her primary caretaker, take care of her. And this always felt strange since I have felt like an outsider in my own family. 

But I myself have been in the hospital a couple of times over the past 20 years, and it helps to have a familiar face around. And that is what I considered myself... a familiar face. 

A familiar face.

It was a normal thing for me over the 1.5 years before her passing to leave work in the middle of the day to take her to dialysis, or to go visit her at the hospital when I got off from work. We would just sit and watch television, sometimes the news, or some show on the cooking channel. I remember having to talk to her about not giving the staff a hard time. (She was a unique personality, she was.)  This was a problem in the nursing homes and rehab centers. And there was a bit of contention between her and myself when she would criticize us, mostly my sister. I wasn't doing well with that at all. 

But a couple of days before her death, when she'd been on life support, I remember visiting her in hospice care. I remember my sister playing gospel music on her cell phone, and us anointing her head with oil and praying prayers out of my prayer book. We just sat with her for awhile. Me and mother have the same hands, and my sister took a picture. 

I was surprised at the warmth of her hand.

Of course it was warm. The machine was breathing for her. 

I was little taken aback because I had only seen my sister once or twice since the quarantine and covid had begun-  only once or twice in a four month period. It felt good to just see my sister up close. To sit in the lobby alone with her and relax... to touch her and hold her hand. Just to sit and talk to my sister was something that eased my mind. 

And that night was the last time I saw my mother. She passed a couple of days later, the day after my sister's birthday, and the day before my nephew Justin's birthday. I was not present, but my brother and sister were. I offered to come down and just sit in the parking lot. But my brother and sister that there were too many people down at the hospice, and they needed to keep me safe during the covid. 

I was glad that they were there when she took her last breaths. They had their closure and I had mine. 

I met my brother and sister at the crematorium to retrieve the urn of her ashes. I was not sure why I should be there. After all, they were just picking up ashes. But it meant something for us to stand together with her urn while a stranger snapped a picture of us. It is a memory to have. And again, during this time of social distancing and covid confusion, I got a quick chance to touch my brother and sister. It was good to joke and laugh with them. That meant so much to me. 

I think what is particularly painful for me is that most of the relatives that raised me are gone, either through death or distance. Or even relationships are no longer there.  My past is gone. I have friends in their 50s who feel the same way. There is a lamenting of sorts of the people who knew and raised us are gone or not present. 

Our childhoods are mere memories that we can only touch with our minds. It meant much to have people who loved me, who I could just "me" around. I am a difficult personality, and they still loved me. That is mostly gone.

And that is very painful. And I feel a little caught off guard. 

Last year (or perhaps the year before), I read an interesting book for book club. I think it is one of the best books I have read in the last couple of years. 

The name of it is City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert.

There was a quote near the end of the book that brought me to tears, as it described how I really felt.

"This is what I've found about life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people, Angela. It's not that there is a shortage of people- oh heavens no. It is merely that - as the years pass- there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your whole history.

Those people start to be plucked away by death, and they are awfully hard to replace after they go. After a certain age, it can become difficult to make new friends. The world can begin to feel lonely and sparse, teeming through it may be with freshly minted young souls. 

I'm not sure whether you've had that feeling yet. But I've had it. And you may have that feeling someday."  

I've had that feeling. 

I was so taken aback when I read that. They were words that brought my feelings to life. They were words that expressed what I couldn't. And I am thankful for that. 

My mother, she was larger than life. And me and my sister were talking one day, and we found that we were thinking the same thing... we really hoped she found the peace she always sought on the other side. 

Rest in peace, Ma. We miss you.

Rest in Peace to my Mother, Carolyn Releford

I briefly mentioned in a couple of posts over the past two weeks that my mother was on life support.

She was removed from life support last night, and passed away shortly there after.

I wasn't there, due to covid concerns. My sister Kay and brother Kari were there with her holding her hand as she passed. I asked if I could come down and just sit in the parking lot. They said no, too many folks around, and they wanted to keep me safe.

I did go down last Thursday night. I don't think I wrote about it, not sure. But our mother was the only patient in the hospice at the time, and we were the only family there. So I visited with her for about three hours (from 10 pm -1 am). We prayed over her and anointed her head with oil. It was good to see and touch my sister, as I haven't since mid-March. My mother has been unresponsive for two weeks (basically in a coma), so her ventilator was doing the breathing for her.

I do not really know how to feel right now. There have been a few tears over the past couple of weeks, but really, just a lot of thinking. I posted a memorium on Facebook that conveys my feelings as of late. I have reposted here, along with some photos.


Rest in Peace, Mother
Carolyn Releford, April 24, 1948 - August 18, 2020.

My mother Carolyn Releford passed away today at the age of 72 after a long illness. She never fully recovered from a bypass surgery she had in late 2018. She and I have always had a complex relationship, but we managed as best we could over the years. It hurt to see her in so much pain over this past year and a half, and though I am sad that she is gone, I am relieved that she is in pain no more. She'd been on life support for the past two weeks, and I found myself praying for her throughout the day. But as of late, what has been endearing was my noticing some of my little habits - making a to-do list every single morning, stacking dishes before I wash them, the way I iron my clothes, the way I sort my laundry, the way I wash my collards, or snap my beans- and pausing for a moment and saying softly to myself in the quiet of the day, "Ma taught me how to do this." I may shed a few tears, or just sit in quiet respect of those passing moments. I am learning to cherish such memories, and they have somehow afforded much peace and comfort.

Rest in peace, Ma. I pray you are with God and in the arms of your ancestors, those you have loved, lost, and missed for so long. Thank you for doing the best you could with me and my brother Kari Releford and my sister Kay Releford. I think we turned out pretty good.

Love, Alesia
But as you have always called me "Lee" and "Lisa".


I wrote that last night, about five hours after she passed. I did not know what I wanted to post, but I just thought about some of my thoughts over the last few weeks and wrote that.


I know I will miss her. No, we didn't get along well at times, but that never negates the good times.


I am just thankful she is not in pain anymore. It was terrible to watch her moan in pain... and not being able to do anything for her, but just try to make her comfortable.

Here are some pictures for you to enjoy. They brought back great memories for me and my siblings.

Ma, probably at some party she was attending.

Ma visiting with her grandsons, circa 2008, in Seattle Washington.

 Ma and Milk and Cookies, 2005? Milk and Cookies was part of a biking crew, and they were at a restaurant with his crew in Seattle.

Ma, and my Father, in 1967 or thereabouts.

 Ma and Justin a few days after he was born in August 2017. We were sitting in the Emory NIC unit taking turns holding him.

 Ma and my Auntie, her sister, in 2012, after the funeral of their cousin.

 Me and Ma, circa 1976, taking pictures at Auntie's house. She was serious, and as you can see, I was not.

 A picture at auntie's house. This is one of the few pictures with all of us. This had to be around 1993-1994.

 Ma and Milk and Cookies. He had a layover in Atlanta, and we all ran down to the airport to see him, if only for a half hour, before his flight home to Seattle.

Ma and her boyfriend Mack. They had been together for 7 years.

I enjoyed going through my phone and finding old pictures. They brought back so many memories.

Rest in peace, Ma. No more pain. That is all we can ask and hope for for you.

Rest in peace.

Milk and Cookies Picture Show, circa 1991

I was going through a few boxes of my mother's photo albums, and I came across some old pictures of my brother Kari ("Milk and Cookies") from, for what I can guess, the year 1991. (He's 32 years old now).

That boy has ALWAYS loved horses. I did not realize he had taken any pictures with a pony so many years ago, but I'm so happy I found these little heirlooms.

Happy Birthday #2, Justin

Today's my nephew Justin, aka Scoot Booty's birthday!

GLORY!!!!

It feels like he was born just yesterday.

Then we celebrated his first birthday!

Now he's TWO!!

***Happy Birthday Justin***

Scoot Booty Stories

So, SOMEONE is turning 2 next week.

Scoot Booty!

My nephew Justin!

(Sister Callie Jo doesn't know how to feel about all this. She wants to play with him, but DARNIT, he's a bit too rough with her. Mitch just disappears. Sigh).

Anyway, I kept him for a few hours on Saturday. I did a few chores, as per my usual routine on Saturdays mornings. I also lit a few fragrance candles. I had to remind myself to blow them out before he came over. Didn't want him to be playing and knock them over.

Of course I forgot to blow them out. He was sitting on the floor playing with his toys, and I was sitting on the couch. That's when I thought Oh I forgot to blow out the candles.

I blew them out. And he saw me. He jumped up from the couch and stood next to me, blowing hard on the candles, blowing smoke.

Hence the hilarity of this picture. (And he was driving me crazy with the pants sagging off his booty).

  If you peer over his right shoulder, you will see the candles.

I said, "Um, the candles are out, bruh!"

He continued blowing the candles, well the smoke around, and then he yelled "Happy Birthday!!"

And he kept yelling it!

I was bewildered.

**crickets**

O_o

"You can talk?" I hollered.

"Happy Birthday!!!! Happy Birthday!!"

This went on for another 5 minutes, as he took time to blow on the candles again.

I'm just shocked to pieces that he can talk!

Then he was standing around cheesing hard, like he's waiting on some cake or something.

"I have no cake, man. I have apple slices."

My sister said when she took my mother to lunch for her birthday back in April, the waitresses and workers came to the table singing Happy Birthday. So she guesses he remembered it, because he went crazy during the singing and presenting of the candle lit slice of cake. LOL

Well I didn't have cake. And I think he'd had enough of the apple slices. Earlier he'd been eating oatmeal and sliced apples.

That's the reason why his shirt was off. When he eats, he dirties up a shirt something awful! That's the price you pay when you're trying to learn to feed yourself.

(And by the way, someone said I could put a candle in a slice of white bread, and that would have been good enough for him).

But that's okay. I'm just SHOCKED that Scoot Booty can TALK.

He can count to 20. He knows his ABCs and his sounds. And he can recognize numbers and letters. I had some 10 pound dumbbells on the stairs, and he pointed to the numbers on the sides and hollered "10!"

Yes, the Scoot Booty is coming along!
I still have to cover up my furniture when he comes over. Because the drooling... LAWD!!

I just can't wait to be able to have a full blown conversation with him.

That's when the real Scoot Booty Stories will really begin!

Milk and Cookies and Scoot Booty

Nephews... All Dressed Up!

So my nephews got all dressed up for picture day. It's Milk and Cookies Jr. and Milk and Cookies 3.0, Shawn and Tristan!

I would have liked to seen them in some slacks and wing tips. But this is the true definition of a good picture day. I use to put on a decent enough blouse when I was little. And here, they have on shirt and tie. You're only taking a picture from the waist up. I am good with that, and it's a great idea...

Now this little fella here, my nephew Justin, is trying on his Easter suit.

Man, I saw that little handsome man, and he looks like he's about he's the guest preacher at somebody's church!!

"Everybody say Amen! And now we have a young man coming to the stage, and I know he's gonna bless us today. Can I get an Amen?"

AMEN!!!

LOL

He looks nice in his Easter suit. I didn't even remember they made suits that small.

And it's way too funny to me because Justin is not down for clothes when he's in the house. He'd rather run around in his diaper. LOL.

My nephews... they are such handsome little guys.

Little Right-Handed Man

My sister gave Justin some chalk and let him do a little scribbling...

Baby Pictures Circa 1970

So my sister and brother were cleaning out our mother's house (she has 40 years worth of stuff... literally), and they said, "Mama got boxes and boxes and pictures. Take them with you. We don't know a lot of these people in the pictures, but you do."

I said yes. And before I could object, my brother had slammed whatever he could into the trunk and backseat of my car.

I was a tad bit annoyed. It is more junk for me to deal with. And I want to clean out my garage. This does not help.

But I must admit, it has been a joy to go back through all of those pictures and relive the memories.

So I think I will be posting up some of those pictures. And I can start right now.

Here I am, a little baby LadyLee, at 2 weeks old!

That is me being held by my father. He looks so young there. Wow.

And here I am again. I think I am less than a year old.

I am being held by my Auntie Joyce. Look how wonderful and perfect her afro is. She always had the best hair.

I am thankful just to look back at these old pictures. God must've known I needed that, especially since my grandmother is gone. I feel like my whole family past of when I was a little girl has disappeared like a puff of smoke. And it has made me sad.

The past is the past. I have my memories. And I will always hold on to them.