Remembering Claude B. Victory, Jr. & Jason Paul Victory

Nine years ago, my dad, Claude Bert Victory Jr., died of prostate cancer. Some days, that feels like a really long time ago. Other days, I can close my eyes and see his face and hear his laugh, or his presence so clearly that it feels like no time has passed at all. When in reality, a lot of him flows through me.

In this Monologue solo episode, I’m sitting with the anniversary of my dad’s passing, the loss of my brother from brain cancer, Jason Paul Victory (2014), and the strange way grief keeps changing without fully disappearing. Recently, my nephew asked me for old pictures of him with his dad, my brother, and it brought me back to a day we spent together by the trains in Georgia. Just like that, I was back inside memories, looking at how much has happened and how much life has moved forward.

I’ve been thinking again about what embracing all of me really means. It sounds beautiful and aspirational, but a lot of the work is quiet and ongoing. It's letting myself remember. It's sitting with the reality that I still miss them. It's sitting with the reality that I have thrived and progressed in many ways. It's acknowledging that grief does not always feel like fresh acute pain anymore, but it can still stop me in my tracks.

This episode is me taking a moment to say their names, to honor what they mean to me, and to reflect on family, legacy, time, and all the parts of ourselves shaped by the people we love and lose.