It’s been a year since you were called home. And that’s too long for you to be gone. Listening to “Wish U Were Here” by Jamie, staring at my baby pictures on the mantle piece. Now I stand as a grown man trying to hold the high mantle that you set for me and still maintain my peace. Pardon my rust, I haven’t written in a while, but I guess a year is enough time for it not to be rushed and sustain this piece. Shhh, don’t tell anyone about the tears that I shed to attain this piece. Even a solid oak has to shed his leaf to know about fall. So I reminisce on where I fell short of checking in with regular reports of my progress, process your death, and take the positives out of me being bereft. At the end of the day family is all we have left, and there are many times when I have left, not kept in touch, and that’s not right. Maybe your push for literacy is why I write, and realize that I won’t have many opportunities left to try and make it right. There was no answer for your cancer, and how it extinguished your light. But I hold dear your distiguished life, and pray that God will fill the dash on my tombstone with the same fight. Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, so maybe my unlimited potential for greatness is fueling my stage fright. From community centers to scholarship funds, your name is etched in stone literally. Those are why I still stand in awe, and feel like the little me sitting on your knee. These recent trials and tests have kept me in prayer on my knees trying to identify what is ego, and what are my needs. I don’t have your wisdom to take heed, so I have to step firmly and strongly in my blindness. Make sure I embody your kindness and pass down the same values that are timeless. Continue the legacy as you helped break the ties that bind us. So even in the darkest hour, our lights are still shining for you to look from Heaven and find us. We may forget human contribution; Anniversaries are always there to remind us. I Wish U Were Here to see the things I’ve done and will do. Even if I never told you, you gave me the will too. I Love You Granny Glen. Even in your physical absence, I can still feel you.
This is Cocktails coming from my home cubicle of self reflection. I'm easing back in the saddle.
