Page 112 of Reverence
“For loving us in ways that made healing less daunting,” I whisper into the breeze. “For teaching us how deeply we could feel for each other. For making space for me without conditions.”
I let the ashes fall into the water.
They dissolve almost instantly. Carried and free. Like Lena.
The waves wash over our feet as if sealing it. Tears cloud my eyes but so does the warmth of Lena’s memory. I’m surrounded by laughter and stories. DJ recounting the time Lena tried to cook and almost burned down the kitchen. Ajaih talking about how she used to snort when she laughed hard.
It isn’t a memorial.
It’s a celebration.
It’s in this moment that I understand fully—love doesn’t shrink when it’s shared across lifetimes. It expands and that expansion includes Soleil’s Sanctuary. It’s thriving back home. What started as grief evolved into purpose and that purpose is now a living, breathing refuge. The trans persons that walk through those doors get to live safely while receiving the care and support they deserve as they become the version of themselves they were always destined to be.
Caleb invested in opening a clinic that’s run by Yanna and Ahmir. We offer the simplest care like a flu shot and the more complex arias like referrals for gender reassignment procedures. We’re expanding services and adding specialists each day. CJ joined the staff and somehow still finds time to be everybody’s favorite nephew and future surgeon rolled into one.
Winston Hills is shifting and growing. And so am I. The awards came faster than I expected. Panels. Interviews. Features. Suddenly my name carries weight in rooms that once wouldn’t have opened the door for me. I’ve had to learn how to exist in spotlight without losing myself in it.
Calil never lets me drift too far. When cameras flash too bright, he steps closer. When the noise gets loud, he reminds me who I was before applause.
“Don’t let them define you,” he tells me often. “You were powerful before they noticed.”
My parents reached out once my name started circulating through Winston Hills as someone to know. Once Soleil’s Sanctuary began receiving grants and recognition.
I answered the first call.
I didn’t answer the second.
By the third, I blocked them.
Especially after I learned the house I grew up in was in foreclosure. Not tragedy. Not catastrophe. Just poor decisions layered on top of pride.
For years they made me feel like living as myself was the reckless choice. Turns out I was the only one making smart investments.
It doesn’t make me bitter. It provides more clarity. I built this life by choosing myself. By stepping fully into my truth when it would’ve been easier to shrink.
The sun begins to set over the water and paint everything gold. Calil wraps his arm around my waist from behind, chin resting on my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks.
I lean back into him. “Better than okay.”
The ocean roars softly in front of us. Our people laugh behind us. The past feels honored. The present feels secure.
“I used to think living in my truth meant fighting,” I say quietly. “Probing I could survive.”
“And now?” he asks.
“Now it feels like resting,” I answer.
Resting in love. Resting in purpose. Resting in a body and a name that finally feel like home. Living in your truth isn’t loud all the time. It’s not always supposed to leave you feeling battle tested. Sometimes it’s soft. Sometimes it’s standing on a beach in Costa Rica with the man who sees every version of you and chooses you anyway. Sometimes it’s letting go of the people who couldn’t love you correctly and not feeling guilty about it.Sometimes it’s watching the ocean carry grief away and realizing it didn’t take your joy with it.
Calil turns me in his arms and kisses me slow as the sun dips below the horizon. No audience. Just us.
I look around at the life I built. The sanctuary. The clinic. The family that chose me. The husband who honors every chapter of our story, including the ones written before me.
I’m not surviving anymore. I’m thriving. I’m not afraid of what’s next and I believe with certainty that when you live in your truth, you stop begging for space.
You take it and you bloom.
