I Speak Your Name

When I was young, it seemed to be a rare occasion for a friend to pass away.  Of course old people died, that was what they were supposed to do.  But people my age… not so much.  I lost my great grand-mother at the age of 5, my maternal grandmother at the age of 9, and my grandfather at the age of 10.  Strange thing is that I remember each one’s passing.  I remember how sad my mother was, and I remember not fully understanding I would not see them again.

When I was in junior high, the unthinkable happened, one of my friends died.  I still am not sure exactly what happened, but I remember her being in the hospital, and the next thing I remember is going to her funeral.  Her name was Thea Jones.  A few years later, I went to go visit my friend Jeanie, and there was a black wreath on the door.  Her name was Jeanette Fisher, and she had passed from complications of Sickle Cell.  We had been friends our whole childhood, and I never even knew she had the trait.

On to college, the passing of my friends Rodney, who we called “Bay Shay”, the night before he died, he and his best friend Andre came to visit Paulette (my roommate) and I.  We were in college, and considered them our little brothers.  They were so excited because they were seniors in high school, and it wouldn’t be long before their graduation.  We fed them, and stayed up all night talking about nothing and everything.  We literally had to put them out!  The next day Rodney and Andre went to play basketball and Rodney passed out.  He had a heart attack, he was 17 years old.  I will never forget it, I will never forget the call.

I only had one friend I knew that was born the same day and the same year as me.  His name was John Gunn.   He was 6’ 9”, and a center for the Memphis State basketball team.  John came down with what we thought was a cold, and it turned out to be a rare disease called Stevens - Johnson syndrome.  John died on December 21, 1976.  I couldn’t believe it.  He was not only my friend, but my exact same age.  We were too young to die.

Years went by, and eventually, my aunts and uncles began to pass away.   My mom’s oldest sister Geraldine (who we called Sister) was the first.  Her dying wasn’t a surprise to me because she smoked a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes (with no filter) each day.  So I wasn’t in shock, but she was the first of that generation.

 

In 1986, the same week as the Space Shuttle disaster, my only brother was killed.  The world as I knew it changed.  How could my baby brother be dead?  I just could not wrap my head around this.  He had a one year old daughter, and a 1 week old son.  He was only 23 years old.  His death, devastated my mother, and it took 20 years before she was the same person I knew growing up. Since then I have lost all of my aunts and uncles, my god parents, my mother-in-law, father-in-law, a nephew, my father, and many friends.

In 2010, I lost one of my best friends Karan.  My world was forever changed again. 

This week, I lost another friend Patti.  The circle of life continues. 

My ancestors believe if you speak the names of the dead, they will never truly die.  They will live on forever…

Flora, Almetta, Edgar, Sadie, Eugene, Cora, John W., Thea, Jeannie, Rodney, John G., Sister, Terry, Cathy, Met, Lucille, Pap, Nan, Frazier, Tootum,  Corbin, Ruth, Mallory, Stanley, Wendell, David, Reginald, Connie, Ethel,  Bernice, Georgetta, Tracey, Karan, Maeon, Arnita, Carrie Mae, Joe Jr., Reevis, Reesha, Reaumel, Coochie, Jan, and Patti.

 

I speak your name, I speak your name.


09/12/12 Update:

Since I posted this post, I have had many e-mails and phone calls from loved ones telling me their stories of lost and grief, and lending me their shoulders to cry on.  How blessed and I to be surrounded by this love.  And as my friend Debra reminded me how blessed are we to be able to speak the name of Jesus, the one that died for us.  God bless you all, and thank you for being my friend.