If you will, allow me the space to be fully Candi (translated: fully nerd) with you for this post. :)
If you didn’t know, I am a musician. Since the age of two I have been singing, and believe it or not, a few short years after that I started regularly making money with my voice. Music has always been an important part of my life and will continue to be, even if it isn’t something I do as a main career focus anymore. The power of music is a universally accepted force. Humans are drawn to and affected by music in fascinating, almost magical ways. 

I don't know that I add anything new

Or that offering my voice, again, is remotely helpful. I really don't know. But here's what I do know; I am exhausted with grief and sadness. And if I am exhausted, I cannot begin to know how exhausted my black brothers and sisters are. I can't begin to experience the level of anxiety that affects their daily interactions, the level of strength it must take to sometimes silently endure ill-timed or ignorant remarks from well-meaning but misinformed white people like myself.

I LOVE HIM FOR A MILLION REASONS, NOT LEAST OF WHICH ARE THESE:

1. He humbly cleans our house a thousand times over because our children don't know that they don't have to see everything they own all the time in order for it to count. And because I am working more hours than I should right now.