Dreams and an Empty Backpack

One Saturday morning, I had a dream that my brother was graduating, and we were waiting for him to get into a parade of black SUVs; the family had already piled in. My brother never made it into the vehicle; yet, I felt the anticipation of him joining me in my stomach and chest. My brother passed away on November 13, 2022.

I woke up with huge tears. I actively praised God for allowing me to be with him in my dream. Then, I walked into the living room where my brother's empty backpack laid on the floor. It is coated with new dust from the Yurt called Willow at Camp Manitowa. I reached in to get warm, fuzzy socks and began to sob uncontrollably. 

Sorrow and immense joy are roommates. I've lived long enough to know where to house them. My head was filled with the story I would tell Jermel. 

I thought about the unforgettable experiences from the camping trip I had with a group of beautiful adults and kids. I want to tell him how I labored to climb 40 feet and zipped lined through trees, my squeals layered over cheers for Ms. D and how laughter bursted from me and my students as we jumped into the lake, giggled, and swam. I want to discuss how God has given me the courage to do what I Iove: act, speak, write, play music, and sing! Staring at his empty backpack and reflecting on my dreams, I do not take any moment for granted. I vow to live and love hard until we meet again. 

This poem came to me Saturday morning, Oct. 3, 2026. Glory to God.

Put on Joy and Courage by Poetically Kesia.Chantè 

My identity sits firmly between the gap in my teeth

I put on joy like my gold hoop earrings

Can’t convince me to take off, my big smile

Up front, centered, not staged, well-earned, not pretending

Courage to live and let the Spirit guide me

To breathe and let God iron out my dreams

I put on faith like wide leg jeans, 

It be rough getting these hips to fit

But the truth about who I am makes them roomy.

Postpartum depression and grief tried to consume me.

Lies in my head could not rule me; 

My pen reclined in my hand, releasing words on paper,

Processed years of doubt and fears that tried to foul me.

Now, I put on joy and courage daily.

They never get too small.

I’m capturing every thought.

Pain gets felt, and my tears don’t hide, they still fall.

Yet in the morning, I wear layers, God’s protection over it all.