“Cancer, sudden death, and foreclosure walk into a bar…”

Um, wait, isn’t this joke supposed to open with a rabbi, a priest, and a minister? Yep, but sometimes life says, damn what it’s supposed to be, this is what it is. And that’s where I’m standing in this moment.

Twelve years ago, I moved to Augusta, GA, the birthplace of my parents, Agnes Jean and Francile Neal, to care for my then 79-year-old daddy after Mommy’s sudden death. Five days after the memorial service, Daddy said, “Dolly, you think we gonna make it?”

“Daddy, I really don’t know but no matter what, I’ll be right here with you.

Through 2 strokes, 6 major surgeries, a heart attack and 4 diverticular bleeds that required transfusing, I was there.

But this last one, this last one…a triple-whammy: a funeral for Daddy, a cancer diagnosis for me, and the threat of foreclosure. On the real, there is a part of me that questions my ability to survive all of this, but like the ‘Daughters of the Dust,’ I’m choosing to try.

As I fight this cancer, navigate this grief, and attempt to regain my emotional, creative, and financial footing after 12 years of solo-caregiving, I’m asking for your support.

If there’s any contribution you can make to that end, you have both my gratitude and a commitment to pay it forward.

There are two rituals I’ve developed in this season:

1. Reciting the excerpt below from Acts of Faith: Meditations for People of Color:

“In your family line is the genius of those who were born into a barren land and built the pyramids. In the oasis of your mind is the consciousness of those who charted the stars, kept time by the sun and planted by the moon. In the center of your being is the strength of those who planted the crops, toiled in the fields, and banqueted on what others discarded. In the light of your heart is the love of those who bore the children who were sold away only to one day hang from a tree. In the cells of your bloodstream is the memory of those who weathered the voyage, stood on the blocks, found their way through the forest, and took their case to the Supreme Court.”

2. Listening to a voicemail Daddy left for me in April 2013, while I was back home in New Jersey settling my affairs to make the permanent move to Augusta: “Kia, this is your daddy calling. Everything is all right.”

I pray so, Daddy, I pray so…