Chi Pisa, TCJ!

What a year! I wasn’t sure how to shape my final blog (or what I think is my final blog), but I have so much to share. As a farewell, I’ve put together a written collage covering things we’ve missed and what’s coming.

Traveling from ND to Vegas to present NICC AIBL’s business plan—taking 2^nd place—and give my elevator pitch was unforgettable. I stood on that stage and said, “In Shawnee, Oklahoma, 70% of our residents live below the poverty line. We are a community in crisis—ranking 4^th in teen pregnancy while 50^th in education and 2^nd nationwide for MMIW cases. The stakes for our youth couldn’t be higher.” These trips were healing, despite literally having pneumonia. The attached scan features the poem I delivered at the AIHEC student conference poetry slam alongside a photo with two new friends.

The artwork in my blog “Between the Win and the Loss” placed as SPTHB’s runner-up, allowing me to attend the conference and meet people impacted by my work. One of my submissions placed again this year, so I’ll get to do it all over again in 2027—at my own tribe, to boot.

I turned 30 this year and it felt like a ticking time bomb appeared over my head. Nine years. In nine years, I’ll be 39. The age my i̱ki was when he died. Will I make it to 39? Will I make it to 40?

These are the quiet parts of me that only a few people saw, but they left marks I still struggle to put into words. Roots and Reckonings has given me a space to reckon with the hard emotions of this past year. I’m so grateful to everyone who joined my journey of balancing grief, navigating student life, and searching for joy.

I want to share an excerpt from “Dear Ki-he-kah,” written back in February to explore the grief of losing someone who felt like family. Keeping the full piece private created a sacred space, and 75% of it will stay that way. But as I say goodbye once again, with the one-year anniversary of losing my nana approaching, these emotions sit heavy on my heart.

Chief Jim,

I think my pain is a culmination of everything; because I’ve idolized you in a way I couldn’t bring words to other than to call out “Chief Jim!” every time Olivia and I were on the phone and you were there, or to say you should run for president because “you’re the Chief of our Hearts.” It’s easy to see a father figure in someone despite a “standard” level of closeness, when your own father gave less in that regard. When the other men in your family are gone now, too. Every little bit of support meant more than I ever told you or Olivia.

I am an ant in a sea of people grieving, but my grief is compounded by all these other things making it feel harder for me than others probably think it should be. Grief sucks. I think you’d understand these feelings.

I made Eko and Oli a chocolate cream pie and peach cobbler. You’d be proud, I even wrote in Osage on the pie. Thinking back to our last conversation gave me a real laugh (I can’t embed the proper Osage alphabet here, but I believe it’s we-wi-non translated back into English lettering. We-wi-non for making me feel better about all that). I really just want to scream. Life has been, and continues to be, so unfair all around.

P.S. You Osage have the best grape dumplings. Wi-oxda, ki-he-ka. Seko? Wi-tsí-go? Still can’t believe you told me I’d have to ask Eko when I told you to adopt me! I need the grape dumplings!

Wi-oxda, ki-he-kah. We-wi-non. (But in Wa-zha-zhe orthography lol)”

Through all the loss, Roots and Reckonings has been a refuge. Beyond helping me process my feelings and connect with others who feel alone, it inspired me to create. I’ve been writing more poetry, completed a manuscript (maybe two), and started developing a guided journal for Native students. I’ve been letting writing heal me, thanks to all of you. Yakoke for walking through the reckonings with me and helping me find my way back to the roots. Here’s to the next chapter of healing, creating, and honoring where we’ve been. I hope you keep finding your own ways to heal and hold onto joy, no matter what you’re carrying.

Chi pisa la chike.

Bridgette Hoshont’omba is a student at Nebraska Indian Community College.