I remember a preacher (Rev Verna) preaching from the subject, “Get Up Jesus!” The text was Mark 4: 37-39. Jesus was on a ship, sound asleep and a terrible storm arose. The sailors were doing everything to stay afloat. Somebody decided to go awaken Jesus. They said, “Carest Thou not…i.e. Don’t you care that we are about to die here? How are you just lying there asleep?” Jesus got up and said, “Peace Be Still.” The storm ceased, just like it had never happened.
 

The preacher’s message was that when the storms of life are raging, we should say, “Get Up Jesus!” “Wake Up Jesus!” “Speak Lord!” The storms of life might be illness; yours or a loved one, it may be a disobedient or ungrateful child, a disloyal or unfaithful spouse, the loss of a job and… oh my yes, the death of a loved one.
 

I thought about that as Millie and I rolled down Bailey Ave. to Woodrow Wilson and to UMC following the Paramedics. That was the worst storm I’ve been in to date. When I ran besides the gurney holding onto your foot as they loaded you, I couldn’t feel you, so I knew you were gone, yet I kept begging. I begged the Lord to give you another chance even though I knew you were gone. In retrospect, when I was begging for another chance, it wasn’t for you, but rather for us; those you were leaving behind. We didn’t have a chance to say, “I love you;” or “See you at the meeting;” or “Boy, we gone miss you.” You had just slipped away.
 

Over the years, I’ve learned, God says “Yes,” “No,” or “Wait.” That Sunday morning, He said “No.” You were/are His. He made you, He knew all about you. He knew the pain and suffering you had endured in this life. He knew your hurts, your disappointments, your dismay. He knew how very hard you had tried, and tried and tried. And like any good Parent who loves a child, He said, “Enough! That’s enough. Go get him.” Millie talks about how good, restful and peaceful you looked that night when she gave you the Pepto. You were just lying there with your hands behind your head, watching TV; at peace, no pain or distress on your features. I believe you knew it wouldn’t be long now.
 

I like to think that as you lay there, you heard the fluttering of the Angels’ wing as they hovered around in your room; perhaps you even saw them, as they awaited the final word from the Master so they could transport you. They watched over you all night. And as the household came awake and started moving around, God allowed you to tell Grandmother/Momma, “I feel better, but I’m not going to church this morning.” She was able to relax knowing you were okay. But you were better than okay, weren’t you baby? You were at peace, knowing you had an early appointment in Heaven; the Angels were already there. Shortly God said, “Come home Child.” And the Angels took you away.
 

Sure, they worked on your body. They did all that was humanly possible, but your Father had called you home and His word is final. As you lay there in the ICU, they kept your body warm did all kinds of afore unheard of things. But you were gone that Sunday morning. They didn’t officially pronounce you until Monday, but you were gone. I touched you all over, but I couldn’t feel you at all. I kept praying, begging, for mercy. But, as I said, in retrospect I now know I was praying for us. That we could/would accept God’s will and let it be.
 

You would be so proud of your nephew. I know you tried for over 40 years to teach him something, I want you to know your work was not in vain. He manned up. Michael stood right there in the ICU and got Kent, Priscilla and Johnnie on the phone and let them talk to you.
 

All your nieces and nephews were there. Sheronda and Ronnie made a turn-a- round trip. Cousins, Aunts, Friends, people whose lives you have touched in any way were there. The hospital staff was amazed. There was a crowd, but an orderly crowd. Bug did you know how much you were loved? That’s the title of the story I’m going to write…one day. Bug, Did You Know?
 

How did you like your Homegoing Service? Everyone said it was impressive. I don’t know what was expected, but we could do no less for you; a memorable service for a memorable guy. I know you didn’t like the blue lights. I know, I know. There’s a city ordinance, so their presence was a mandate. Other than that, I hope you were/are pleased.
 

Your brother found you a wonderful spot, on a hill, overlooking everything. And as “busy” as he is all the time, he has found time to spread wheat/hay or something all over the fresh dirt, so the ground won’t erode. I’ve only been asking for wheat/hay for my yard for 4 months or so and haven’t gotten it. But, you have some already. Ain’t that something?
 

They pronounced you on Monday, 12/19; the Monday after the third Sunday in December. Tomorrow is the January 19, a month to the date they pronounced you, but it falls on a Thursday. Today is Wednesday, January 18; a month to the date that you left us. A month to the day was Sunday; the third Sunday in January which was January 15. What does this mean? What does it have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing. It’s just my wee, tiny mind rambling as it is wont to do. It has been a crazy week for me; I’ve been mess. So I write.
 

So many things bring me back to horror and pandemonium of that Sunday morning. Michael and I were on the phone, your name had just crossed my lips when I got the call from Sylvia. I went back to him and said, “I have to go. Sylvia said Bug is sick.” He said, “Okay Ma, keep me posted.” Sylvia didn’t say, “Hurry!” But there was something in her voice. When I turned off Livingston onto Eminence and saw all the Emergency vehicles, I think my heart and mind stood still for a moment. As it turned out, Michael got there almost at the same time I did. I don’t know, to this day, whether someone called him or what. Now, when I go to Grandmother’s house and make that turn, often that scene replays in my head. I haven’t decided to take a different route…I know it will get better.
 

To show you how crazy I went that day, I just got in the car with Millie and rode to the hospital. That Monday when I was about to get into her car to leave the hospital, I stood there in the parking garage and said, “What happened?! Where did all this stuff come from?!” She said, “Get in the car girl. Somebody must have done this while we were in the hospital.” OMG! You would not believe the debris and garbage in her new car. I didn’t even see it that Sunday. OMG! But that’s your sister. I worry about her all the time, now more than usual.
 

Rationally, academically, empirically I have accepted the fact that you are gone. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart, I can’t seem to let go…I will though, I will get there. I can’t keep putting your candle out. I have okay days. Good days. And then…I have “Lord have mercy Jesus!” days. I took your things out of your closet, piece, by piece, by piece. When I got to the last shirt…I was on the verge of falling over the edge, Grandmother was right there. So I left the room, I called Michael and said, “Pull me back! Pull me back!” He talked to me. Your things rode around in my car for 10 days, but I had to let them go. I dropped them off at Goodwill…it was not cute at all. I called Michael.
 

I do not know what I would have done if it were not for him. He has been my ROCK through all this. Not just for me, but he’s been there for whomever. He has, and has had his days/moments, and he reaches out; but I can’t thank him enough for holding on to me. . I have had to call that boy so many times. I’ve tried so hard to be there and hold everyone else together. Our main concern has been to be there for Grandmother/Momma. I think we’ve done well so far.
 

I try to be there for all your sisters and brothers. I know they are there for me also …but being the oldest, I try so hard to hold it together so I can hold them together. You used to hold all of us together, but now look at us. We need somebody to hold us together because of you. Shuckin’ Shuckin’ Shuckin’
 

Reading and/or writing used to always be there for me. Reading used to be my escape, but it’s not working for me right now and that’s a real bummer. I haven’t been able to lose myself in a book since you left. I’ve tried, but I find myself reading the same sentence over and over. Barbara says she has a book, by a new author, that she’s going to send me. I’ll try to read it. I need it badly. I’m trying to get “my life” back.
 

Your best buddy, James, has fallen in love with the website. He visits us daily. He reads the updates and other entries. He asked me if I ever rest. I do…I think. I am so sorry it took this tragedy (for me) to invite him to the site. I can’t believe I had never told him about it. What was I thinking? But look at you, still teaching us, still trying to run things.
 

Writing is what I have, what I can turn to, what I can do without disturbing anyone, or bringing anyone down, or ruining anyone’s day. Some of the things I write/have written will never be read. Some I will share. Some are healing or cleansing or cathartic for me. Do I cry as I write? You better believe it. But only Jesus and I know about that. Ain’t that special?
 

I guess I should read over this and edit, delete, change, revise, rework, improve, tidy up…make if flow a little better. I might, one day, but these are my thoughts as I feel them today, 1/18/12.
 

Okay, Baby Boy. I’m going to get up and do something. I have a glob of leaves in the driveway. They washed down the hill yesterday with all the running water from the rain. I guess I’ll have to get out there and get them up. Now is as good a time as ever.
 

It was good talking to you. I’ll talk to you again. Maybe next time I’ll be telling you some of the great things happening in the family.
 

We miss you Boo.

xoxoxox
 

1/2012