A Year of Grief, Growth, Teaching & Truth-Telling

 January & February — Returning, Relearning, Rebuilding

“Every classroom is a mirror; every disruption, a lesson.”

“They remind me why I teach.”

Last year November began with my return to Lalyce Gray Basic School, and for just over a term I had the priviledge to work with Laurel's Early Childhood Development Centre, where I stepped once again into the unpredictable world of early childhood education. Attendance dipped, cars arrived mid-class to collect children, and staff behaviours often carried tension that seemed to expect my silence.

Yet each week, the children ran to greet me with a joy that dissolved doubt.
Their excitement was my anchor.

Memory Gaps — The Mind’s Quiet Defense

Long years of depression have carved quiet spaces inside me—spaces where memory slips away without warning. I’ve learned not to panic. My mind is trying to protect me, to hold back what might break me. I honour those gaps now. They are proof of survival.

May — A Month of Losses and Letting Go

“Grief does not ask permission. It arrives unannounced and settles wherever it pleases.”

May carried the weight of my father’s passing. Oscar Landford Walker. A man whose rejection of me I felt even more deeply when immigration barriers kept me from attending his funeral.

“Goodbyes while being excluded
from the ceremony still leave a mark.”

At the same time, I delivered another powerful Dance In The Park and made the difficult decision to release friendships that had hardened into silence and avoidance.

“Reach out to someone who will listen.”
Listening is not passive; it is medicine. It is intervention. It is grace.

Grief taught me that emotional pain is still one of humanity’s least-understood experiences. There is no science strong enough to map the heart.

Thanks very much to my Aunty Deserene Walker (Aunty I) and my Cousin Devon who ensured that I was acknowledge during this sensitive period.

AIR-PAASA — Rediscovering Purpose

This year uncovered truths about my motivations and leadership. The AIR-PAASA Foundation, born in 2010 from a circle of supportive women at EMCVPA (Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts), has been carried through the years largely by Paula Shaw and Audrey Nembard—loyal champions who show up every May.

Their consistency is one of the reasons I never abandoned the mission.

And still, when communication breaks and former friends withdraw instead of resolving misunderstandings, I have learned to cut ties without regret. Expectations were clearly stated. Silence is an answer too.

Health — A Difficult Road

I rarely visit doctors, and this year reminded me why.
Government clinics are harsh, dismissive, and cold. When I tried a private doctor, he fixated on my accent rather than my health, withheld my urine results, and carelessly tossed a diagnosis at me like a stone.

“You’re going blind,” he said, without explanation. I left that clinic and will never return.

Post-Melissa — Picking Up After Disaster

“After every storm
comes the work of rising again.”

Hurricane Melissa tore through Jamaica, leaving devastation unlike anything I have witnessed. And while people struggled to survive, politicians and influencers seemed eager to capitalize on tragedy. I hope their lactose tolerance is low.

I continue to hope for material support—plywood, zinc, lumber, electrical supplies—anything to fortify what was damaged.

Thanks to my international and native friends who have kept checking up on me before, during and after the hurricane. Dee-ann Horseford, Jonathan Dyer, Meredith Skinner, Vicki-ann Parker, Shakira Sankies, Mr. & Mrs. Lydia Puranda, Rose-Marie Housen-Evugbemu, Maya Sheridan, Sandra Snorrason, Norville Stone, Julia Brown, Lelia Brown, Joseann Flemming-Artsen, Biko, Anne Fitzpatrick, Beverley Maloney and Cheryl Thompson. You have all reached out to me before, during and after the disaster and I am grateful to continue to have a special place in your minds and hearts. I appreciate each and everyone of you for calling, listening and sharing.

Students — My Unexpected Light

Since November 2024, my students at Lalyce Gray and Laurel's Early Childhood Development Centre have kept my spirit afloat. Their laughter. Their hugs. Their “Uncle Kofi: May I go to the bathroom?” three times in one class—driving me a bit mad, but reminding me daily that I need to be tolerant and understanding. They are my saving grace.

My Mother — My Steady Mountain

My mother’s loyalty and strength remain my primary inspiration. Her unwavering commitment as a wife, widow and mother shapes the way I move through the world. Her spirit keeps me going when I want to stop.

Resolution — Living Beyond Half a Century

“I refuse to entertain mediocrity—especially in myself.”

Now that I have passed the half-century mark, I no longer have patience for the smallness of others or the shrinking of myself. But humility is its own kind of wisdom. This year, I hope to let my gentle, patient self rise more often—without lowering my standards or silencing my truth.

“The journey continues.”

All the best. 

May the Silent Battles You Faced In 2025, Turn Into Your Biggest Victories In 2026!