Lost

SEARCHING FOR ME

It has been a very long time since my last post. Even writing this is difficult.

The transition back to Washington State has not been easy. I am still doing contracting work and finding it difficult to secure full-time employment. The loss of my hero, my dad, has been one of the most difficult parts of these 51 years on this planet. Losing my mom was hard and is still hard, but there is something about his death that is hitting me differently.

Daniel Charles (that is what I call him) was not always an easy man to deal with, but he was honest in a way that moved you to do something different. I do believe that is where I get my tongue from. My holding grudges from my mom and my quick tongue from my dad — what a combination. But overall, they loved us and wanted the best for us and from us.

My family got different versions of him. My oldest sister, my brother, my youngest sisters, his wife, and his stepdaughters all experienced something different. Maybe I will write more on that later.

Daniel Charles gave me huge gifts. The first was cussing me out and telling me I had to get it together when I was in my late 30s. He said, “You are almost forty. You need to get your act together.” I was pissed, but I knew he was correct. That became the motivation I needed to make different choices.

The other gift was loving my queer Black ass. My queerness, at least to my knowledge, was never used as a weapon or a means to make me/us (Mr. B) feel less than my siblings. I knew he loved us deeply, and so did his wife, Lady Di. Maybe that is part of why this moment feels so hard. One of my heroes — my brother being the other one — is gone.

Even at this age, the security of simply having him here was enough for me. And now I feel vulnerable and almost empty. Mr. B has been great and will always be great, but life feels so different now that I cannot reach out to Daniel Charles Hooks.

So if you see me out and I am not actively engaged, it is not personal (not that I need to explain myself). I find it difficult to engage in small talk or relationships that are not genuine and centered in joy. If you are not part of my close friend group, my interactions may feel distant right now.

Yes, I am grieving, but I think mostly I am lost. The only time I feel fully present, in my body and open, is through line dancing. This line dance practice has allowed me to enjoy dance again and feel more creative. I feel part of a beautiful community that truly understands what dancing with people and being in community means. More on that later.

Anyway, this is a small glimpse into where I am and what has been going on. Yes, you can still say hello — and know that all I may have to offer is a simple hello in return until my body, mind, and spirit align again.

Searching for me,
dani tirrell