Sing, Unburied, Sing

Whispers of the Past

Dear reader, you might not know me, but I reckon we're not as different as the miles between us might suggest. You see, my name is Jojo, and I've come from a place where the soil is as rich with stories as it is with sorrow.

Down here in the South, where the trees bear silent witness to both our cruel and tender histories, I've learned a thing or two about enduring. Life's been a heavy load, much like the bags of sugar my grandpa would haul across his farm, a place where ghosts of the past linger close enough to touch.

Now, you might be carrying your own kind of ghosts, the kind that haunt the corners of your mind when the night falls quiet. I want to tell you about the weight I've carried, the kind that sinks deep into your bones, making every step a little heavier.

It's the kind of weight that could crush a man if he doesn't learn to bend with it, learn to let some of it go like leaves in the autumn wind. Trust me when I say, the letting go ain't easy, but it's necessary, just like the shedding of old bark for a tree to grow taller, stronger.

As I share my tale, you might find a bit of your own story in the lines, a bit of your own struggle in the setbacks and the triumphs. I'm reaching out across this great expanse to share with you, not just my burdens, but the lightness that comes with each small victory, each lesson learned without a schoolroom or a chalkboard, just life and all its sharp corners.

So settle in, and let me tell you about the journey that's carved deep grooves into my spirit, and how, maybe, it might help you carry your own load a little better.

A Boy Amongst Ghosts

Here I am, a boy barely stepping into manhood, and yet I've seen things that would age the eyes of the oldest men. My life is a tangle of living souls and spirits that refuse to rest, a constant reminder that our stories are never just our own.

I've come to understand that we're all just walking histories, carrying the joys and the hurts of those that came before us and those that walk beside us. Maybe you've felt it too, that sense of not being alone even when there's nobody there.

It's the echo of your ancestors, the expectations of your kin, the whispered dreams of your own heart that won't let you be. We're bound together, you and I, by threads invisible to the eye but felt deep in the marrow.

And these connections, they can be a source of strength or a shackle that holds us back. It's a fine line between honoring those who've walked before and finding your own path forward.

It took me a while, but I learned to listen to the ghosts, to learn from them without letting them dictate my every move. They're like the chorus of a song that's both mournful and hopeful, a reminder that even in the darkest nights, the stars still burn bright.

You, too, have your own chorus, I'm sure of it, and it's up to you to find the harmony amongst all those competing voices.

The Journey

My mama, Leonie, she's a woman of deep love and deep flaws. Her journey's been a rocky one, losing herself in the highs of substances when the lows of life got too much to bear.

I've seen her struggle, seen her fall and rise, and in her fight, I've learned about the resilience that's etched into our very bones. It's the kind of resilience you tap into when everything else seems to have failed you, when you're down to your last dollar, your last ounce of hope.

Now, I ain't saying I condone all her choices, but I've come to understand them. Maybe you've watched someone you love lose their way, seen them chase after something that does more harm than good.

It's a painful thing to witness, but it's taught me about compassion, about holding onto love even when it's slippery as an eel. It's the kind of love that doesn't give up, even when it's bruised and battered.

And it's on this journey, with my mama and my little sister Kayla, that I've seen the best and the worst of us. Traveling down those long roads, I've found pieces of myself scattered amongst the roadside motels and the endless stretches of pavement.

Each mile a lesson, each stop a chance to grow a little bit more. You might be on a journey of your own, physical or otherwise, and I hope you gather your own lessons along the way, tuck them in your pocket like precious coins to be spent wisely.

Lessons from the Elders

My grandpa, Pop, he's a man of the earth, his hands as gnarled as the oak trees he tends to. From him, I've learned about the quiet strength that comes from staying rooted, from knowing who you are and where you come from.

He's a storyteller, weaving tales that bridge the gap between past and present, ensuring that we never forget the miles we've traveled, both good and bad. You might have your own Pop, someone whose wisdom seems to seep from a place beyond themselves.

They're the keepers of our history, the ones who remind us that we're part of something bigger, a long line of survivors, dreamers, and fighters. It's from these elders that we learn about the cycles of life, about the fact that no winter lasts forever, and that the spring always comes, no matter how cold the frost.

In Pop's stories, I've found guidance, a compass to navigate the choppy waters of youth. He's shown me that wisdom isn't just about knowing a bunch of facts, but about understanding the rhythm of the world, about knowing when to stand your ground and when to seek shelter from the storm.

And as you face your own tempests, remember that there's wisdom all around you, in the stories of those who've weathered their own storms before you.

The Power of Forgiveness

There's this thing about forgiveness – it's as much for you as it is for the person you're forgiving. It's a lesson that's come hard to me, through tears and clenched fists, through love that's been tested in fire.

I've harbored anger, deep and hot, for the wrongs done to my family, for the injustices that seem to follow us like a shadow. But I've come to understand that carrying all that hate is like swallowing poison and hoping the other person dies; it only eats away at you from the inside.

You might be holding onto your own anger, your own sense of injustice. And while that fire can keep you warm for a time, it can also consume you if you're not careful.

Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting, or saying that what happened was okay. It's about setting down that heavy burden at the side of the road, so you can travel a little lighter, a little freer.

I've learned that forgiveness is a choice you make every day, sometimes every hour. It's a muscle you have to keep working, or it'll atrophy.

And in that work, you'll find a peace that's hard won in the battleground of your own heart. So as you walk your path, consider the weight you're carrying, and whether it might be time to lay some of it down, for your own sake.

Love's Complexity

Love, it's a tricky thing, isn't it? It's not always the bright and shining storybook romance we're fed from when we're young. No, love is gritty, it's messy, it's getting your hands dirty and your heart bruised.

It's sticking with someone even when they're at their worst, even when it'd be easier to walk away. I've seen love in its purest form, in the way my sister Kayla clings to me, seeking comfort from the storms that rage within her.

You've known love too, I'm sure, in all its forms. The love of a parent, a friend, a partner, a child.

Each one comes with its own challenges, its own rewards. Love asks a lot of us, asks us to be better than we think we can be, to forgive when we want to hold a grudge, to hope when all seems lost.

It's the force that drives us, that holds us together when the world is trying to tear us apart. In my young life, I've learned that love isn't just a feeling, it's an action.

It's showing up, it's doing the hard work, it's choosing someone else's happiness along with your own. And in those choices, in those actions, you'll find a depth of love that the storybooks don't tell you about, a love that's stronger for all its trials and tribulations.

So, as you navigate your own relationships, remember that love is more than just words, it's the choices we make every single day.

Beyond Survival

There comes a point when just surviving isn't enough. You want to thrive, to reach for something more than just making it through the day.

I've felt that yearning, that hunger for something richer, something deeper than the hand I've been dealt. It's a desire that's as human as breathing, as universal as the stars that light up our night sky.

You might be feeling it too, that sense that there's more to your story than what's been written so far. It's a powerful thing, that pull towards a greater purpose, a more fulfilling existence.

And it's okay to want more, to dream of a life where you're not just getting by, but where you're flourishing like a garden in full bloom. For me, that desire has been a compass, guiding me towards choices that might not be easy, but that promise a better future.

It's led me to value education, to seek out knowledge like a parched man seeks water. Because in that learning, in that growth, I've found a way to rise above the circumstances of my birth, to write a new chapter in a story that's been handed down through generations.

And I hope, for you, that your own desire for more leads you to places you've never dreamed of, to heights you've never imagined.

A Letter's Farewell

As I lay down this pen, I want you to know that my story is still unfolding, still being written with every sunrise and every sunset. The lessons I've shared, they're not just mine, they're ours, because as different as our lives may seem, we're all part of this grand, messy, beautiful human experience.

And if you've found something in my words that resonates, something that makes you feel a little less alone in your struggles, then I've done what I set out to do. I've connected with you, shared a bit of my soul in the hope that it might lighten your load, even if just for a moment.

Now, I'm just a character in a book, but the emotions, the experiences, the truths, they're as real as anything you'll find in your own life. If you want to dive deeper into my world, I invite you to pick up a copy of 'Sing, Unburied, Sing' by Jesmyn Ward, a masterpiece that paints a picture far richer and more complex than I could ever convey in a single letter.

You'll find more there, more heartache, more joy, more resilience, and perhaps, more understanding of what it means to be human. So, dear reader, thank you for walking a while with me, for sharing in my story.

May your path be lit with the knowledge that you're stronger than you know, loved more than you can imagine, and capable of more than you've ever dreamed. And remember, we're all just stories in the end, so let's make ours worth telling.