Not the Day, nor the Hour.

Not the Day, nor the Hour
I got a phone call a few minutes ago that one of my chapter sorors passed away. Not just any chapter soror. The one who came and took me under her wing and made me feel welcome in that chapter. She was an older soror and always preached good health and good ways to me. She warned me about my family and their sickness and told me that there was a way for me to avoid all of that now if I take heed and follow the correct path now. She always called to check on me and always made sure that I had what I needed and asked about my parents often. She would invite me over for tea and cookies and we’d sit and just talk. She was a sweet, southern woman and her southern ways invited me and at the same time repelled me — because she would want to call and talk during the work day. And southerners sure can chat. But it would be in the middle of the work day and I need my ears to listen to clips I’m editing or have to be in meeting after meeting. And she was retired, and had plenty of time. I always felt bad cutting our conversations short, but I’d try to let her know that I was there and I loved her, even if we didn’t talk.

Then she was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer. This everpresent entity in my life. That seems to strike everyone in my family and for whatever reason, we all deal with it like it’s an annoying cold or the flu or something. And then we’re over it. I guess I just assumed it was the same for everyone. She’d still come to chapter meeting. Albeit meek. Then one day, she passed her duties on to another Soror in the chapter and stopped coming. She called me at one point when she was strong enough to ask me to have a few hats made for her “like the one I made before.” Little crocheted hats that would hold her head warm during the wintertime, now that she lost her hair. I had a pink and green one made for her on GP when she was healthy. So I called the other soror I had make those hats for me and commissoned 4 more. A Black one, a peach one, a dark green one and a brown one. And every day… every opportunity that would come up — I’d remind myself that I needed to bring them to her.

Every day for a year.

But I procrastinated. Thinking she’d be there. Even seeing with my own two eyes at the retreat that she was awefully frail. That wasn’t enough to hasten me. Other things took precedence. Work. My Family. My friends. Sittin around and doing nothing. And now she’s gone. And I have the hats to remind me of my lack of care. Another name to erase from my address book. From my wedding invitee list. Eventually, from my thoughts.

It’s the same thing I did with Grandma. She lived a mere 7 blocks away from us for years. I MAYBE visited her every month… or two. I did speak to her every day. But… seeing her… EH… she’ll be there, I thought. Then she moved in next door to us. I remember thinking as we were moving her in… Now I can visit her every day on my way home from work. Just stop in and check in on her. She lived in the apartment for 36 hours after we moved her in… before they had to take her to the hospital where she lived out the last 5 months of her life. I went to the hospital every day… I guess I kept my promise, then. But … sure would have been nice to enjoy her when she was able to respond. But I took that for granted too.

I’m really beating myself up. I know they know I love them. But I sincerely could have done better. They thought more of me. I knew the dangers of joining a chapter full of older women. I’d come to love them… and then they’d pass on. And I’d have to remain to mourn them. And constantly ask my self… why we do any of this. What’s the purpose to love… just to lose.

*

So So Deaf

So So Deaf

The weekend was pretty cool.

On Friday I got a call from Earl (knowing I was going to see him later on that night) asking me “What are you doing tomorrow?” I hesitated, because I thought he had missed our discussion about the plans for our weekend so I started to reiterate “I have chapter meeting, then a dinner meeting with a client then maybe hanging out with Ness and Lou and…” and he interrupted, “What about after?” More hesitation on my part. Because I wasn’t sure what he was getting at… “Nothing I guess,” I responded. “I would like to know if you’d spend the night with me?” He asked. I could hear his smile through the phone. And I was completely, and pleasantly taken aback as I said, “Well, of course!” He has been making a marked change based on our last few conversations. In the last 3 weeks, I’ve seen him about 3 times a week… spent the last 2 weekends with him and he goes out of his way to make sure that he’s around, or offers to spend time. I take him up on it every time and I’m really overwhelmed by excitement. He’s really trying, and I’m so appreciative. We spent the evening together watching boxing, eating shelled peanuts and making jokes. It bugs me out how much like all the men I knew growing up he is like. Between the obligatory newspaper read every day and watching sports incessantly and eating peanuts that you have to shell first… it’s really like being home for me. I know exactly who I need to be in those situations — myself. We turned in for the night and usually we just fall right asleep — or he falls asleep and I try to tire my mind enough to join him — but last night we stayed up for an hour just talking. Deep talk where we just came right out and said what was on our mind and he really astonishes me. As quiet as he is… he’s REALLY effin smart. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being impressed by that. We talked so long that we started to fall asleep between our sentences. But no sleep was had, before he was sure that I’d sleep all the way through the night. In the morning, we even showered together (which is a first in a long time). But I just felt mentally, physically and spiritually closer and more in tune with him. And our friendship is coming back which is something I’ve prayed for.

On my way into the city for my client meeting, I passed a group of young men on the train platform at 74th street. They were your typical urban youth — saggy pants, hats worn every which way, teeshirts that reached their knees, do rags with no waves to be kept, etc. But they were unusual to me. But I couldn’t place why. Till I observed them for a little while. I couldn’t hear them. That was what was out of place. I know my people. We’re loud as hell. We yell at each other when we’re within arms reach. But these boys were signing to each other. JUST as animated as they would have been with full vocals and yelling — but all in sign. And it got me to wondering. I thought we get the cues to live certain ways from reading things in the news… from observing things on TV — but this culture takes most of its cues from the music. But what if you can’t hear it? Somehow, the style of the youth has transcended sound. And then I wondered, what kind of conversation would they have amongst themsevles to relay what’s cool and what’s not? I mean, it’s not like they are mutants or aliens. But I don’t ever remember talking to my peers about fashion. I knew what songs were hot. I saw who was singing them on the music videos and I went out into the stores to see if I could find what they were wearing (within my price range and that looked good on ME). I dunno… it just challenged the way I thought we pass messages. But I’m resigned to thinking, it’s all the same.

*