{"id":16227,"date":"2020-08-01T00:00:20","date_gmt":"2020-08-01T05:00:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/?p=16227"},"modified":"2020-07-31T23:54:48","modified_gmt":"2020-08-01T04:54:48","slug":"portrait-of-my-mothers-grief","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/16227","title":{"rendered":"Portrait of My Mother&#8217;s Grief"},"content":{"rendered":"<p style=\"text-align: left\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>My mother&#8217;s father told her that she would die like a mosquito. Not<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>filled with a sweetness so red that it leaves a mark after it\u2019s been<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>killed, but slapped out of existence because of the ease of the act.<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>This coming from the man that named her after the most important<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>woman in the bible. The one that eventually just disappears from<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>the text. Whatever. Men and their bed-time stories. My mother<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>won\u2019t listen to Whitney Houston because it makes her think of the<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>year her son died even though it happened four years prior. We<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>have brunch together and talk about how many years it\u2019s been. She<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>doesn\u2019t want to cry and I don\u2019t want to cry in front of her so I do it<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>for both of us when I get home, or on my way to the train, or in<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>class, quietly to myself, in the low rumbling parts of my gut. My<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>father wrote in my 5th grade time-capsule letter that I am like her in<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>the worst and best ways. He says I care about people. He also writes<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>that I am better than him. He does not mention how he thinks I will<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #ffffff\">fffffffffffffffff<\/span>die but I read it in the undertones.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h6><a href=\"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/16357\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000\">MAGHAN BAPTISTE\u00a0<\/span><\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>fffffffffffffffffMy mother&#8217;s father told her that she would die like a mosquito. Not ffffffffffffffffffilled with a sweetness so red that it leaves a mark after it\u2019s been fffffffffffffffffkilled, but slapped out of existence because of the ease of the act. fffffffffffffffffThis coming from the man that named her after the most important fffffffffffffffffwoman in the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2211,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[65],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-4dJ","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16227"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2211"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16227"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16227\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16370,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16227\/revisions\/16370"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16227"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16227"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16227"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}