Where Life Ends and Begins: Reflections at a Baptism

Today, I am sitting in a church pew, watching my cousin’s baby being baptized. A new life is being celebrated—welcomed, blessed, and embraced by family and faith. And as I sit here, surrounded by the coos of a newborn and the quiet murmurs of prayers, tears begin to pour from my eyes.

They are not tears of sadness alone, nor joy alone. They are something more complex—something sacred.

Because while I witness this beautiful beginning, I cannot help but think about one of the most defining endings of my life: my father's death. The months leading to his passing, the caregiving from afar, the grief, the unresolved truths—all of it still lives in me. Life ended, but it didn’t just leave a void. It left a storm, a reckoning, and a transformation.

And now I watch new life begin. I wonder, Will I ever create life? Will I ever be granted the privilege of building a healthy family—one rooted in love, healing, and truth?

There is something powerful about witnessing both ends of life’s spectrum so closely. It humbles you. It sharpens your awareness of time, of relationships, of what truly matters.

Today, I am also overwhelmed with gratitude. My maternal cousins—some of whom I have not always treated with the tenderness they deserved—have stood firmly by my side. Through my father's death and all that followed, they have shown up. No grand gestures, just consistent love. They have been a source of strength when I needed it most.

In contrast, I have felt a haunting silence from my paternal side. Not a single call. Not a word of comfort. I understand why—it is easier to stay silent than to confront the truth I dared to speak. I challenged the narrative, broke the unspoken code, and rejected the manipulation that still runs deep in the hearts of my father’s sisters. And for that, I have been cut off. But I feel no regret. I know my truth. And I know their silence speaks volumes.

Still, this moment is not about bitterness. It is about clarity. It is about honoring the people who show up, and releasing those who cannot. It is about marveling at the cycle of life—how it breaks us, heals us, and sometimes surprises us with grace in the most unexpected places.

As I hold back another wave of tears, I know this much: I am alive. I am feeling. I am reflecting. And I am moving forward—with hope, with pain, and with the unwavering desire to live fully and truthfully.