Gran'Ma

Gran'Ma  

©2019 kirqarts, LLC

"I just want you to be happy, baby..." She spoke softly into my ear, as I sat in the back pew of this inhospitable church. Although she'd taken the Great Sojourn to be with the Father when I was 15, her voice sounded as clear as it did, then. At first, I sat shock still, as if freshly tased, then I slowly looked around to see if one of the unfriendly usherettes had decided to become friendly. Left...nothing. Right...nothing. I then felt a tingle that I knew HAD to be her, letting me know that I wasn't tripping. My eyes became moist, and a plethora of warm memories and sounds flooded my mind. Her easy laugh, her soft, almost meek voice. There always seemed to be a spiritual on the tip of her tongue, and she always seemed to be humming it. Gentility, even when she had to discipline my bad ass. You know how little boys do. We do dumb things AFTER being told not to, simply because we MUST! It's what little boys do! And when we bust our asses, or get our asses bust in the learning process, Gran'Ma's there to comfort us, with a fresh, jiggly bowl of strawberry Jello with either Cool-Whip, or sugar lightly sprinkled upon it, a hug, caress, kiss on the forehead, and of course, a soul-soothing spiritual. She wasn't much for fanfare, and a whole lot of nonsense. From what I recall, the big deal made over her, and my GrandFather's 50th Wedding Anniversary, was something that she just did not want. Humility was her mantra, and love was her credo. I recall as a young pup not being able to sleep unless I was able to hold, and play with her hands. Despite her always working around the house, her hands were always soft, and smelled like original Jergen's lotion.

   Her cooking was magical to me! It seemed as if anyone who sat at her table, left satisfied, & yearning for more! It's why I always haunted the kitchen whenever she was cooking, begging for samples, AND getting them! Probably why my big ass IS so big! Greeeedy!

   Being married to a man as strong-willed, and strong-personalitied as my GrandFather couldn't have been easy. While he was the storm, she was the Quiet. I remember laughing as she'd tried to get one of my more energetic younger cousins to sit his tail on down, but struggled over his name. You see, there was a bunch of us nappy-headed boys in the brood, and more than a few of them had names that began with the letter, "K". "Uhhhh, Kir, uhhh, Ky, uhhh, Kra...Uhhhh, BOY, come sit down!" She, along with the rest of us started laughing. Her laughter was musical, and infectious, and once she started, we all wound up joining in! 

   Towards her last days, she wasn't doing so well. Some physical ailments that I can't recall, had befallen her & robbed her of her energy. I remember the very last time I saw her, was at an aunt's house. She wasn't a big woman at all, but the illnesses made her seem smaller and even more frail. I remember for a moment even being afraid to kiss her, for fear that I may hurt her. I dismissed the thought, and zeroed in on her right cheek, the target, I'm sure, of countless numbers of kisses, from young, and old. I remember that as planted, there seemed to no longer be the plushness that was normally there. Just skin stretched over bone. As I pulled back, I looked into her doe eyes, and they seemed very tired. Hollow. As we locked eyes, it seemed as if she knew that I knew that it would be the very last time that we'd ever see one another. I tried, and failed, to dismiss the thought, but I just couldn't. All I could do, was hope that she'd get better soon. After all, she made the BEST chicken stew. Better than anyone in the world, and I needed to have some. Just one more serving. I didn't care how much. I just wanted Gran'Ma to work her culinary magic in that kitchen one more time. Sing, or hum one of her spirituals while she was doing it, too. Just...one more.

   It wasn't too long afterwards that Yah called her gently HomeWard. Maybe He wanted some of that glorious chicken stew, too. I slowly watched the family start to crumble as the glue that she was, was gone. Disputes turned into disagreements, turned into turmoil, turned into grudges, turned into war. Some, unresolved even to this day. I was numb when she transitioned, as my 15 year old mind was caught between not believing, and feeling guilty because I wasn't crying my eyes out like everyone else was. Did it mean that I didn't love her? Of course not. Then, why am I not crying, and feeling the pain like everyone else was? I was in a daze, caught up in a maelstrom of my own making, as confusion reigned supreme. During her wake, I sat in a pew alone, with Gran'Ma in her casket two rows in front of me. This is when it happened. The proverbial ton of bricks dropped on me, and my floodgates opened. All of the times spent with her, laughing, talking, watching TV, TONS of memories flashed through my mind in nanoseconds, and that coupled with the fact that the woman in that casket did NOT resemble my beloved Gran'Ma, broke...me...down. I vaguely remember who had comforted me (it was probably Moms), but I'd FINALLY realized that my Gran'Ma was...leaving. For good. 

   At the funeral, I was probably a zombie, but I do remember crying harder than I did at the wake. Everything else was a blur. Don't remember the Pastor's message, trip to the burial grounds..nothing. All I knew was, she was gone. I couldn't hear the melodious laughter, the spirituals, the laughter as she watched "Sanford & Son" on Fridays. No more intoxicating fragrances from her kitchen...no more shuffling of her well-worn favorite slippers, as she walked to, and fro. Her slippers...weeks after she had been laid to rest, I was walking past Mom's room and spotted...her slippers. Gran'Ma's slippers. Right where she'd left them during her last visit. A visit which indeed, turned out to be her very last. I went into the room, and tenderly, almost reverently picked up the slippers. I then brought them to my nose, and inhaled... … Gran'Ma. She was gone, but her essence remained. Original Jergen's. On her feet...hands...face...in my mind...in my heart. Where Gran'Ma lives.

   "I just want you to be happy, baby."

   I'm working on it, Gran'Ma...I'm working on it...