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About Me

 

💫 About Me


Welcome to Sunday Whispers — my public journal and a soft place to land.

I’m Whisper, and this space is where I write through pain, process healing, and make sense of the mess and meaning in my life. This blog is personal — deeply personal. I talk about grief, family wounds, domestic violence, drama, and the unspoken things that shaped me.

It’s not always pretty, but it’s always honest. I don’t sugarcoat the dark — I sit with it, speak to it, and learn from it.

Here you’ll find:

  • Raw reflections on family trauma and survival

  • Stories of loss, faith, and rebuilding after heartbreak

  • Thoughts on healing, boundaries, and becoming whole

  • And yes, dark humor — because sometimes laughter is rebellion

Sunday Whispers is more than a blog — it’s my journal made public, for those who’ve lived through hard things and are still standing. If that’s you, welcome. You’re not alone.

Thank you for reading my story, and letting it sit beside your own.
You’re safe here.

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From Grief to Grace

I originally started this blog to release the pain and resentment I felt toward my family for the lack of support I received while grieving. It was a safe space for me to finally say the things I was holding in. But just a day after I posted my first blog, my cousin Tony passed away.  Tony was more like an uncle to me, he was always a phone call away. Over the last few years, I had pretty much become his secretary, handling all his affairs because his health was declining. Just a week before he died, I randomly decided to host a BBQ for my estranged uncle and invited Tony. My uncle came super late, but Tony showed up on time with his daughters and grandkids, something that rarely happened. We had such a good time together, full of laughs and family joy. Looking back, I know that it was God who placed that gathering on my heart. That BBQ was the last time his kids saw him alive. Tony passed on May 14. Six days later, on May 20, my sister, my mother’s other daughter passed away, to...
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The Storm After Mother’s Day

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The Afterlife of Trust and Betrayal

My daddy was found face down, slumped over the couch. Dead. It looked like his body had been pushed from his usual sitting chair onto the couch based on the way he was positioned. I couldn’t believe it. He was gone. At home. No complaints of feeling sick beforehand. My father had many close calls that sent him to the hospital or a nursing home for stretches at a time, but he always bounced back. When he was better, he’d come home, and sometimes he came back stronger than when he left. He had been on dialysis for years, probably since 2005, and only had one kidney. But he always made it. Until he didn’t. He died in 2018. Just days before, I had a strange feeling that one of my parents was about to die. I thought it would be my mom because her health was declining. I even took her to the beach in her wheelchair and pushed her down the boardwalk for a few hours. Two days later, my father died. Suddenly. He was just fine. My dad sold drugs up until the day he died. I had never seen my f...
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