one sweet day

every night, before I fall asleep, I ask God to watch over my family, friends, associates. I pray that He protects us from all dangers seen and unseen, and, however unrealistic, that He brings us all through to see another day. it’s just that I don’t want to receive a phone call like I did three Sundays ago.

I have a huge family. Lots of folks on my mom’s side. Lots of folks on my dad’s side. not one I think I can live without.

in less than a year, the three primary residents of one home went on to meet their Maker. and each time I received that phone call, I felt the pain of loss. that feeling of “not again.” and this time, it was our Queen.

she was the true definition of matriarch. she raised 9 children, adopted 1, and then played a significant role in raising each of her 20+ grandchildren, clearly indicated by all households except mine referring to her as “Mommy,” while they referred to their mothers by “Aunty ___”. not that their mothers were absent, but that she was their mother just as much as the one who birthed them.

and as I sat in the yard, while aunts and uncles and cousins wept, I saw that no one’s pain was greater than the others, because she raised us all.

now as I return to the states, though I feel otherwise, the truth is that life goes on. that’s how I get the strength to face each minute, hour, day. this trip left me with the feeling of a stronger sense of duty and obligation to my family. so I need to keep living, doing, succeeding, for them.

an index card with her careful cursive was found tucked neatly in her worn Bible. on it she wrote a prayer for her children and grandchildren. a wish for His peace and His power to surround us all like the mountains of Jersualem. she wants us to stick together.

so I’m gonna (try to) stop crying now. but I won’t stop loving her. missing her. and if I live the way she did, and if I love the way she did, I know eventually we'll be together, one sweet day.