Archive for category: Family Matters

Chalking It Up!

“The problem is and always will be that since David and Dawn have been awarded control of our Mothers money, something that we had not agreed to, that there has been a scam going on with regards to what they are doing with her money…”

It’s said that money is the root of all evil. I don’t believe this to be completely true, but I do believe it can cause people to do evil things. You will notice that it’s mentioned prominently in the first paragraph of my last blog and it was a major factor throughout this whole debacle.

As I’ve mentioned my mum has vascular dementia, and naturally there came a point where she could no longer take care of her finances. Eventually myself and my twin would be awarded deputyship to deal with this, but for years before then I had already been helping my mum out. Dale states that he had not agreed to my twin and I being officially appointed. Well let me set the record straight.

There are several hoops you have to go through and 1001 pages of forms to fill in before you are given control. One particular form had to be sent to all siblings informing them that we were planning on being mums deputies; thus giving them the chance to contest it if they so wished. You had to state how the form was delivered and sign and date it to say that you had done so.

Dales was hand delivered directly to the property. We made sure we took photo evidence to be sure, and at that time we both had access to the property to take care of mum so we saw it every day. The envelope stayed in full view on the countertop unopened for weeks on end. I’m not sure if it was because he saw it had my handwriting on it so he didn’t want to open it, but that’s his business.

Obviously there was a time limit on when he could respond back and he’d missed it and then some. I can well imagine it’s probably still sitting somewhere unopened all these years later. By this point my sister was standing by his side, but she didn’t contest it either. I’m guessing it was before she’d become fully converted.

I know I keep saying this tale is about the past 5 years, but to put things in context I have to go back so you can get a clearer understanding of what’s to come, and so you, like Dale, might understand the reason as to why we are here.

You’d be forgiven for thinking there are only 4 siblings but in fact we have an older brother. He wasn’t mentioned previously as he never actually lived at the house. Myself and my twin are the only ones who were born here, the older 3 were all born in Antigua. He remained there with my grandparents when my mum, Dale and sister came over to England, and when he did finally arrive he lived in London before coming to Slough.

He is 19 years older than me so by the time I was born he would have been old enough to do his own thing once he reached this green and pleasant land. My relationship with all of my siblings are different, but out of the elders he is the one I get on best with…to be fair considering the options it’s no real shocker.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s not perfect by far. Between my father, Dale and himself my impression of men and relationships was a distinctly negative one. I certainly wasn’t going to take any shit from any man and marriage wasn’t worth the paper it was written on.

Don’t worry, someone did eventually break through the barriers! I still take no shit but I am married! But going back to my eldest brother, I have to give respect where it’s due. Without him my early years would have been dry as fuck! I ain’t even lying! Some of my best memories as a youngster were spent in his and his families company.

I don’t want to come straight out and say he was the black sheep of the family but he was the black sheep of the family. Literally. It’s gotta be said, Dale and my sister were decidedly original Oreo with a coconut twist, where he was a bourbon dipped in Bournville. If I’m keeping it 100, I’ve always felt that if we were living back in the times of slavery, should massa’s house and fields suddenly catch afire (👀), three of us would be running for the hills whilst the other two would be throwing buckets of water ‘cause we’s on fire!’ #GuessWho

He was in touch with his Black side and he was like the Pied Piper for me. One blessing my elder 2 siblings gave me was the love of various kinds of music, but he had the ragga and lovers rock tunes. He always had chewing gum or mints and would take us on drives to London. He smoked and drank and had an I-Give-Zero-Fucks kinda attitude and I loved it.

He was where the fun was at, and when we were with him we had the freedom we didn’t have at home. He lived with his partner and kids but they were deemed a little too ‘ghetto’ in certain families eyes, and it would appear in their opinion I was becoming the same way. That being said we were a lil’ ghetto, but all in all we were a little too Black and a little too proud for their liking.

Because he wasn’t around as much he had little to nothing to do or say with how things were run in the house. He’s a character, but ultimately a man of few words. Although he can create it occasionally, he doesn’t do drama and prefers a quiet life and to be left the hell alone, which I can relate to. We’ve definitely got that in common but not quite on the same level! In any case he wasn’t really needed to deal with anything anyway.

Now I’ve semi explained our eldest siblings absence, I’d like to go back to the reason why I was taking care of our mothers finances before being officially appointed to do so. By 2006 my twin had left home. Again this was a decision Dale was the root cause of.

After one particular holiday to Antigua, Dale made his feelings quite clear.

My dad was not the father of my elder siblings, yet for all his faults he still paid to get my mum and 2 children that didn’t belong to him over to England and housed. By all accounts – well from my sister anyway, he was pretty decent up until he left; at least to her, and I’m assuming Dale too. After that his name wasn’t spoken much in the house and if there were any mention, you could see and feel the annoyance of it clearly from my brother.

My dad didn’t just up and leave the home. He was cheating and chipped with another woman to America where he still resides. Dave and I first spoke to our dad via phone when we were six and then again when we were 12. At 16 he paid for my mum, my twin and myself to meet him in the flesh for the first time.

We spent 2 weeks in Philadelphia, and a week with some family in Florida, then returned home with renewed faith in our relationship. We didn’t hear from him again until we were over 30 years old…

By this time Dave and I were well and truly over him, but my mum would still talk to him. She was grown and it was her decision. She was happy enough to take a trip to Philly to go and see him and they were in regular contact. In 2006 my mother and Dale went on holiday to Antigua and were staying with my aunt. It just so happened my dad was over in Antigua too and decided to visit our mother at my aunts house. Big mistake!

Shit blew up, resulting in Dale making his feelings known. Our mother had disrespected him by having anything to do with that lowlife man and bringing him anywhere near him. He had spent the best part of his youth clearing this mans mess and in doing so did not get to live the life or do the things he wanted to do. How could she have the front to rub this man in his face?

He shouted at them all that he was owed for his years of sacrifice and when they got back to England he would be throwing Dave out of the house. Naturally mum was very upset and my aunt called and told us what had gone down. It was at that point Dave decided he wasn’t going to wait around for it to happen and left. #TwoDownOneToGo

When he was living at home, either Dave or I use to get the food shopping for mum as we were both driving and mum couldn’t. She would venture out down to Ali’s and the post office or to the high street, and would pop in to see her friends occasionally, but she would mainly communicate by phone. My sister likes to deny this but she would very rarely come to the house. She’d keep in contact with mum regularly by phone, but you could count the number of times she actually stepped foot in the house on a yearly basis on one hand.

Again, Dale was the main reason for this and before she’d drunk the Kool Aid.

She’d always had a touch of the Hyacinth Bucket about her (loving, long suffering husband to boot!) but she was right on this occasion in thinking our brother should do more around the house. It wasn’t run down but it was definitely shabby. When Dale first moved in he gave mum £20 a week to begin with but that soon fizzled out within a few months. So considering he was working 6 days a week and occupied the majority of the rooms in the house whilst living there rent and bill free, really the least he could do is help fix up the gaff, right?

When Dave left I took over getting mums shopping for her. She’d write a list and leave me the money and I’d go and get her bits, and if she needed anything or taking anywhere I was always the go to person, which I didn’t mind. She is my mum after all. It’s what you do, right?

In 2007 I got another sign of the man I was dealing with. The incident with him in Antigua and other incidents up until this time already had me watching him sideways and accumulated a few more lines on the chalkboard, but he was to open my eyes even further. Early one morning Dave got a call from Dale who informed him our mum wasn’t feeling well. She’d been up all night and he’d sat with her and made her a cup of tea but she wasn’t looking good and he had to go to work so…

I’ll just let that marinade with the fact that by this time our mother is 72 years old…

Naturally Dave told him to call a fucking ambulance and said he was making his way to the house. By the time he got there the ambulance had already arrived and as he walked in, Dale walked out and went to work.

Dave accompanied mum to the hospital where he called me from. By this time I was working at Next and had just got to work. He told me to stay there for now until they’d assessed her and he’d let me know as soon as there was any news. I called my sister and told her what had happened. She too, like the both of us, was disgusted at Dales behaviour. A little while later Dave called back to say it was a suspected heart attack. I left work, collected my sister and we made our way to the hospital.

Mum spent a week in Wexham Park before a further 2 weeks at Royal Brompton Hospital following double bypass surgery. Between the 3 of us we had every day she was in hospital covered. Dale didn’t visit her once, yet he could tell people on road how she was doing. KMT!

From that day forth I took over doing not just the food shopping, but drawing her pension and making sure all of her bills were paid on time. This is how I know for definite that he contributed jack shit towards the household apart from his own phone bill, although he was still running up her bill as her statements would show. Any appointments she had I took her to. Any item she wanted buying I’d get it for her.

She was never in any kind of debt and although she received housing benefit she was always in credit on the amount she was supposed to pay. I always gave her £60 cash each week which she’d tuck away and the rest was left in her account.

I can’t confirm it, but I believe he’d seen the signs of mums mental health decline pretty soon after it arose and knew it was the perfect time to conduct another part of his master plan. My intentions had been clear from the start. After all I was there for her as much as I possibly could be since after her heart surgery and it was NEVER raised as an issue.

There was no hint of me being accused of trying to rob her at that time because then it was just a case of several less jobs they had to do and he had nothing to gain. Now however, there was a window of opportunity.

The problem isn’t Dave and I having control of our mother’s finances. The problem is and always will be that I put a stop to him trying to bleed our mother dry.

R.I.P Ric Ocasek and to all those who have lost their lives this week.

“One touch to your heart without breaking your skin. No one has the power to hurt you like your kin.”

India Arie ~ Get It Together

In my case, never has a truer word been written. I have no doubt that every family has some form of fuckery they have to deal/contend with; in fact I know I’m not alone! But being raised Black there’s an unwritten rule that you don’t talk the business!

That’s how certain members of my family would love it to be. So that they can continue to lie and generally behave in any which way they see fit with no repercussions. In fairness, I told them that their time with me will come, so this should come as no surprise.

The reason I’m writing this is because I’m going to tell you about my life over the past 5 years. It’s been a trip and a half to say the least! A few months after I was diagnosed with Stage 3C bowel cancer my mum was diagnosed with vascular dementia and that’s when the real fun began. I’ve spoken a lot about the cancer side but now it’s time to share the other side.

I’m putting this part of the disclaimer out because, as mentioned in Disclaimer (Part 1), I fully expect people (especially Black people) to voice some kind of opinion. I’d like to clarify a few things, so that I’m not continuously going over my reasons and why I feel the need to do this.

You can think you know a person, but you won’t ever see how they really stay until the shit hits the fan. I’d already seen it with my elder brother. He has a habit of causing shit storms wherever he may roam. I’ve come to the conclusion it’s because he’s a sociopath. I cannot officially confirm it, but he ticks too many of the boxes for it to be completely dismissed. To be honest, the real eye opener was my sister. You’ll find out why in time.

As you may have ascertained by now I’m a big believer in talking. Communication on a whole is important, but the best way for me is to (wherever possible) address issues face to face. I will always try to do so, and give 3 tries before I tap out. After that you can come to me if you so wish and we’ll take it from there!

Because of the nature of the situation and who we were dealing with (our mother), I gave more opportunities than my usual 3 to try to talk. The chance was given, time and again, for us to sit down as a family and work through things. They didn’t want to know, which is fine, but what isn’t is the bullshit that came with it.

Over the years my siblings have been selectively vocal. As in they will tell selective people their version of how our situation came to be. In the few times they’ve had to sit down with me, it was under best interest meeting settings, and the literal finger pointing and accusations against me came thick and fast.

I’ve heard this and that from various people on what they have been told, and would normally laugh it off and let folk think what they want – but this time it’s different. It happened when I was going through my own little whirlwind, and instead of throwing in a rope to help they threw bricks to try and knock me out.

Well the storm is over and I am now clearing the debris and finding peace. But not before I analyse wtf went down. So here we are. Many questions were asked and accusations thrown, in black and white so there’s no debating, and now my head has stopped spinning I’d like to address them.

I could just keep calm and carry on, which I usually have no problem doing, but this is a special case for so many reasons. Love on all levels was tested. Knowingly or unknowingly (though I believe it to be the first), my siblings tried to break me. The saying goes there’s a thin line between love and hate. It’s true. But it’s also true that there can be a thick fucking wedge too!

I shall now reiterate my feelings to be super clear.

You will read things and think, damn; she sounds so bitter/angry/hurt/upset and fucked off to name a few and say the least. You would be right in thinking so. At one time or another over the years I’ve felt all those things and more. I’m not denying it. It happened and I’m 95% over it, but this is a piece of therapy that I need before I can reach the full 100! This is for my mental health as much as anything else. Sitting back and reflecting it’s been a lot!

This is my chance to be vocal. Not just to a selective group but to everyone.

There are at least 2 sides to every story, (more in this case) and this is my chance to put mine across. My siblings didn’t want to hear or see it. In fact they made a point of choosing a ‘dignified silence’ when it came to ‘the likes of me’. I guess it’s easier than having the truth in your face.

Most of the time it’s not a dignified silence people try to maintain. It’s not wanting the reality check! It’s not wanting to have to face the fact you may have been wrong. As my siblings weren’t interested I’ll put it to you all to decide if you believe I had a point.

This isn’t for my benefit but for theirs, as they value the opinion of what the outside world can see. I’m more interested in sharing what you can’t.

I truly don’t care how you feel about what I write. I’m not doing it for sympathy, love or likes. Unlike some I don’t feel the need to put on airs and graces and lie to my peers and myself that I’m a better person than I am. I give the only version of myself 24/7 because I can only be me and I’m happy with that. Might be laughing and smiling, might be a moody bitch – but it’s all me!

To my elder siblings personally, it’s a shame that in the 44 years of my existence it’s coming like you didn’t really know me at all.

You’ gon’ get to know though!

Understand this, I’m very careful with my words – you should have tried to be the same. Everything I write concerning these events will be MY truth and MY opinion – apart from any quotes and anything else I say I have proof of. They will be all you, and should you feel I have lied or caused you any distress at all, I beg you please:

TAKE MY ASS TO COURT!

I will happily stand and supply whatever proof necessary. Emails, text messages, banshee screaming voicemails – the works!

I’VE KEPT ALL OF THE RECEIPTS!!

Think on that before you come with any new lies as I FULLY stand by anything I have written to you over that time.

You should have never come for me and expect me to keep quiet!

That being said, should any ‘accident’ befall me – look to them first!

I ain’t even joking. Shame and embarrassment can cause people to do off key things.

And there’s a thin line between sociopath and psychopath too!

R.I.P to all who have passed away recently.

Ohio and El Paso we feel your pain

Toni Morrison I salute you sista.

I’m sure that some of you are questioning if I really am as allergic to BFD (Bullshit, Fuckery and Drama) as I claim to be! If you’re a regular reader, or know me at all, you’ll know it really is the case, but there are certain circumstances where you can’t just dismiss it and walk away.

Sometimes it’s not just about you. Despite what you are dealing with personally, there’s a bigger picture. It all boils down to the type of person you are. My situation involves my mum, which to me is a no brainer. I’m not about to let anyone take the ‘berties with the woman who gave me life. Add to that the fact that she is now elderly and vulnerable, and trust me you’ve got a fight on your hands – no matter who you are! #RealTalk

Seven weeks ago we had to put my mum in respite care. I will eventually divulge the details that have lead up to this point but for now I want to tell you about the situation as it stands. So before any of my fellow brothers and sisters whip out The Black Bible and start quoting scriptures on thou shalt not abandon thy parents to a care home, let me set the record straight.

I would love nothing more than to have my mother either at peace in her own home or with me in mine, but at present that is not possible. Hear me when I say I have been down every avenue available to me, but the reality is without a substantial amount of cash I can’t change the circumstances. Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness was a liar. It’s what you’re willing to do for it and how you utilise it that effects how you feel about it, but that is another topic for another day.

To recap quickly from previous blogs, my mum originally hailed from the beautiful island of Antigua, is 83 years old and has had vascular dementia for 4 years. Her name is Dolly and she is 5ft nothing bless her! She was tiny as a baby, which is why she was named so as she resembled a doll. We are nothing alike in looks but I definitely take after her. She’s loving and cool ‘n’ all, but don’t fuck about or she won’t hold back in telling you about yourself…but that was before dementia. Now she’s still just as loving and cool but she’s lost a lot of her bite – for now anyway.

As Dementia and Alzheimer’s progress sufferers can become aggressive, sometimes quite severely so. Thankfully mum hasn’t reached that stage yet, but I have seen a few episodes from others and can totally understand some people’s lack of ability to cope. Nothing about it is easy. They are literally robbed of their mind and memories and it’s extremely hard to witness and absolutely heartbreaking.

In true West Indian fashion my mum was full of old sayings and proverbs. One of them is once a man, twice a child. It’s the truth. If you’re lucky enough to get to an old age, no matter how independent you may believe yourself to be, there will come a time when you will need somebody. If you’re truly lucky you will still have all of your faculties to some extent, but if you’re like my mum it really is like having a child.

Going back to The Black Bible, the confusion and misunderstanding of the scripture comes from the word abandon. No, thou shalt not abandon thy parents to a care home. Thine has the power and the glory to maketh ones elders twilight years as loving, comfortable and safe as possible, no matter where thine dwellings shall be. #NuDawnBible #OldTestament

I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve heard, “If you put them in a care home they will deteriorate quickly and die.” Here’s the part they forget to mention. That can be addressed and hindered if you spend a little time. That is literally all it takes, but it’s easier to put the onus on the care home. Don’t get me wrong, their ass is responsible too, but they can only provide so much. If they are slacking or lacking in their duties then that can be addressed (and believe me I’ve done so), but you can’t expect them to keep your memory alive in their residents minds.

I’m no expert but I’d hazard a guess that if you spend more time with a person with memory issues it’s more likely that they will recognise or at least respond to you as a familiar face. Naturally that’s not necessarily the case with full blown dementia, but if they are at my mums stage it’s crucial if you don’t want them to deteriorate faster. You can’t expect to have no contact for weeks on end then have them react to you like it was yesterday, especially when they are not fully compos mentis.

Myself and my twin have had every day she’s been there covered. Meaning that, even if it’s only for an hour, we have been to see and spend time with her. We want to try our best to keep her spirit alive and also keep an eye on her surroundings. She’s precious cargo and needs to be dealt with accordingly.

I know a lot of people who have lost their mothers and I feel privileged and blessed to still have mine here, regardless of how she is. Some, like my husband, lost theirs when they were just kids and I can’t imagine how that must feel. For those of us who have/had good ones the love and respect is immeasurable.

We put people in care homes for various reasons. Sometimes it’s not under our control but that doesn’t mean that because they are no longer under your or their own roof you should abandon and forget them.

I’m not suggesting you spend every minute of the day with them. We’ve all got shit to do, but a little time means a lot. I’m fortunate enough to be able to spend a lot of time with my mum for now so I’m making the most of it, but even when the time comes that I can’t spend as much time with her I guarantee you I will never just stop or leave it weeks on end unless I am physically unable to do so.

Without trying to sound conceited I hope (if I’m afforded the pleasure) that when I get old I have someone like myself or my brother looking out and taking care of me. It’s not guaranteed that just because you have kids they’ll be there to wipe your ass when you can’t.

Some family have questioned the type of people we are in accepting that mum is better off in respite care. Yet those same people are quick to forget she exists and are responsible for her being where she is. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

She is the longest surviving Merchant offspring to date. I have some tales of her life but I wish I had more stories to tell you about her. Unfortunately I missed the boat but hopefully it’s not too late for you.

Appreciate the life that gave you life! Make those memories. Listen to their tales of experience. Catalogue those favourite recipes and longtime remedies. Take pictures and videos and most importantly just show them some love and attention.

I thankh you mama for the nine months you carried us through. Now it’s our time to help carry you.

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.

I’m keeping it as short and sweet as an Easter egg this week as I’ve had a lovely weekend spent with family and would like to spend today doing the same.

I’ve previously touched on the subject of family and my perception of the word and my sentiment remains the same – being blood doesn’t mean a thing, it’s how you treat a person. (It’s A Family Affair)

Easter is one of the times of year I would usually congregate with my maternal siblings, not because of the religious aspect, but more a reason to spend family time together.

For the past couple of years those days have been done and dusted and yet you won’t find me bawling over my hot cross buns anytime soon.

Some folk are under the impression that you’d be at a loss without them in your life or you’re missing out by not being a part of their collective.

I was told by a sibling that I didn’t count as part of the family. You’d be forgiven for believing I’d done something atrocious but the reality is I just spoke the truth, which can hurt like a bitch, so therefore I must be one.

The truth can be too much to handle and rather than face it some take offence, deny and/or attack; that’s on them. In my opinion, I don’t care who you are, if I think you’re out of order or have a situation wrong I will say so with love, take it as you will, but I’m gon’ say it.

Their response to oust me from the family really doesn’t mean much as I have no interest in being associated with their type – they actually made it easier for me to not give a damn in the long run. #RealTalk

Yesterday I spent the day with extended family who I have more in common with and made me feel more at home than blood. I would rather spend my quality time with those on a level than with wolves in sheep’s clothing trying to pull the wool over my eyes any day of the year.

You can cast the black sheep out of the family but most times that just makes us happy bunnies. #JustSaying

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.

⚠️WARNING!!: If you’ve read my blogs before you’ll be aware I like the odd smattering of expletives here and there. I could apologise but I won’t. It’s MY real talk and how I express myself, obviously not all the time – there is a time and a place.

HERE IS MY TIME AND MY PLACE!

I’m just giving you a heads up: There’s a couple of strong ones today!!

Stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. I’ve heard it being said and even muttered the saying myself as a kid, but the truth of the matter is I was only lying to myself. It’s a crock of do-do! No, they can’t break bones but they can cause pain – they can make your heart ache – and there’s nothing wrong with admitting that they hurt you.

I had my fair share of petty drama as a teen but as an adult I avoid it like the plague! “Ain’t nobody got time for that!!” I’m not saying I’m friends with everybody. There are a few people I really don’t like but it ain’t a thang! I see you, but I don’t see you, and life goes on. They quite literally mean nothing to me and I understand the value of time so it will not be wasted on “nothing”.

The majority of the time I’m an easy going person, I live and let live. I know my worth, I don’t allow people to cross many lines and I know how to lock people off, but sometimes it’s not that easy. Sometimes a situation arises where as much as you try to be the better person you can’t escape a little drama whilst dealing with it because you’re faced with a special breed of people. I like to call them CUNTS.

Harsh words are never welcome but at times need to be spoken. Every once in a while certain people need to be put in check and told a few home truths. #JustSaying.

Thankfully I don’t have to do it often but when I do, for me, the reason they’re receiving the tongue lashing is a build up of so much bullshit either being said or done I can no longer bear the stench.

I’m aware that those words hurt the person on the receiving end (or possibly not as it’s debatable whether they actually have feelings) but, in my eyes, that pain can be classified as being self inflicted on account of being a cunt. #YouBroughtItOnYourself

Cunts have the ability to throw you off balance. The most grounded person can be rocked by another persons cuntish behaviour. They come in both sexes, all colours, creeds, shapes and sizes but share many nasty characteristics and qualities.

Their cuntishness knows no bounds and can range from small time cunt – like the ones who now feel it necessary to shout abuse and tell every person of colour in England to go home, or major cunts like the government and the most recent terrorists in Turkey.

They have the knack of pushing the right buttons to really upset you and make you wanna fuck up a bitch! As cool, calm and collected as we may appear to be, we’re only human, we do have feelings and cunts can inflict pain with words like no other.

My pain was caused by words that come straight out of left field and knock you for six. It kinda stops you in your tracks for a hot minute as your head and heart register what was said. It’s said just in the right tone or just at the right time to inflict the most damage. It’s bad enough if it’s from a random stranger but when it comes from a supposed “loved one” it cuts all the more deeper.

Unfortunately for me I’m dealing with the latter type at the moment, with words and actions combined they are the hardest to ignore and forgive. Unfortunately for them their words are not enough to break me but inspired me to write a few of my own, the pain they caused has subsided substantially and their actions I am dealing with as best I can. A little down but never out – believe that!! These cunts picked the wrong bitch to mess with.

I believe you shouldn’t hold things in that upset you. Negative energy’s not the one. Better out than in and all that jazz. Release that shit and keep on moving! I also believe you shouldn’t allow anybody to try to bring you down or disrespect you no matter who they are to you, especially if, like me, you know your worth.

I try to stay as positive as I possibly can be but as I’ve said time and again I’m a realist and I know it’s not possible all the time.

I’m not a big fan of airing all of my business and I’ve never felt the need to name and shame, but under special circumstances (and for especially cunty cunts), I’m willing to make an exception to my rule. The only reason it hasn’t been done already is because I have no option but to bide my time for now. There’s been a mild breeze in the air but hear me when I say Hurricane Dawn is brewing!!🌪

Watch what you say people. No matter what the old adage says WORDS HURT!! I’m very careful with mine. It’s a shame others are not the same because once they’ve been said they cannot be taken back, but they can be remembered for a long time. Some will soon be reminded of their words. #Cunts

R.I.P to those who have lost their lives this week