Looking back, I blundered many times. I had to pick up the pieces after each one. Believe me, the road has not been easy.
When my mother, Catherine Clay, and my uncle, Willie Allen, died, my friends at the complex where I lived where there for me. They provided the companionship I needed. They listened to my plans about how I would live my life without those two very important people who meant so much. They helped me understand the meaning of death and how life must come to on after it.
