Archive for June, 2011

It was day four.  Saturday. Early in the morning.  My mom and I were lying in the bed in the master bedroom at the country house. I was in a catatonic zombie-like state, staring at the ceiling.   I didn’t have much to say.  Kesner was still dead.

Mom was trying to make it better.

She would say small things here and there.  She read me emails and text messages that she was receiving.  She wanted me to know how many people were praying for me.  A few people called during that time.  Aunt Carole.  Aunt Pepper.  I listened to her end of the conversation as she talked to them on the phone.

We were just lying there.  Just the two of us.  Me and Mom. In the morning.

Mom asked me what Kesner’s last words were to me.  I told her:

“Thank you very sweet.” 

That was the email that he sent me after I left the bag of groceries on his back porch.  One simple line.  no comma.

It was at that exact moment that I began to consider the greater meaning and possibility of that sentence.  It was as if he had said, thank you for this very sweet little romance just before I died.  Thank You Very Sweet.

It was sweet.

Mom thought that was a perfect goodbye.  She said:

“That should be the title of your book.  ‘Thank You Very Sweet.’ I know you’re feeling badly now, but when you’re feeling better, I think you should write about this.  You have an incredible story to tell…”  

She was right.  But I didn’t want to think about writing then.  I would think about that tomorrow…

Around that time we began to hear stirring in the house.  Klay and Gayle were up and moving around.  Mom got out of bed to have a few words with Gayle.  The two of them were conspiring to force feed me.


Gayle, otherwise known to me as ‘Glitter Pop,’ is my friend and my Link Sister in the Metro Manhattan Chapter of Links.  A few of us call her ‘Glitter Pop’ because that is how she refers to her jewelry collection.  According to Gayle, any basic outfit can be made fabulous with a little glitter and a little pop. Gayle is always iced out in diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, etc.  And Gayle’s ‘basic’ style is St. John head- to-toe.  She is always well appointed and simply,… fabulous.

Glitter Pop

I had the pleasure of meeting one of Gayle’s college friends over the summer.  She said that in college they used to call Gayle ‘Whitley’ because she reminded them of the character from the popular TV show: “A Different World.”  Monet said once that she’s never met a Gayle that wasn’t fabulous.  I agree, I think the name Gayle carries fabulous expectations with it.

But Glitter Pop is more than fabulous to me, she is my friend.  Gayle and I have been friends for several years now.  She is so positive and happy.  She loves life and she embraces each moment with joy and fullness.  She inspires me.

But in that moment, at the country house, there was no glitter and no pop.  No ice.  Just Gayle in a satin floral moo moo with a tray of Activia yogurt and two blueberry mini muffins.

They sandwiched me in the bed.  Gayle on one side and mom on the other.  they were gearing up to force feed me!

Mom was growing weary of my food fast.  And truthfully I was getting hungry.  But I only wanted to eat the minimum amount.  I did not want to indulge.  I did not want to enjoy anything.  I would eat just enough so that I could have energy for one more day.

And so the three of us sat up in the bed.  Gayle to my left and mom to my right.  Gayle spoon fed me yogurt until it was all gone.  She fed me two mini muffins also.  They made me eat every bite.  I rolled my eyes.  But inside I felt thankful.  For the LOVE that was resting on either side.  Just then, LOVE also walked through the bedroom door.  Klay came into the room to join us.  It had been decided that I also needed to take a bath. They had done so much conspiring in such a short amount of time.

Klay drew me a bubble bath in the heavenly soaking tub.  The bath was made complete with fresh floating orchid pedals and a comfortable white robe to put on when I got out.  I was thankful.  But still very sad.  They left me alone and I sat in the tub, knees to chest, and looked blankly out of the window.  Kesner was still dead. 

How had this happened? 

When I had enough, I got out. I put on the robe and proceeded to get dressed.  I came back into the master to find my mom reading a plaque on the bedroom wall:

Bidden or not Bidden, God is Present.’ 

Whatever – I thought.

I didn’t feel like I knew God anymore.  I was angry.

I put on a simple green cotton dress and I went outside to the patio and returned to my lounge chair.  I spent the rest of the day there. Felicia was among the first to arrive that day.  (Qiyana, Klay and Gayle had stayed over from the night before).  Felicia came with her son, Baby Craig.

Baby Craig at the Country House

Baby Craig was a blessing.  He arrived with an arm full of colorful silly bands.  Each band had their own little shape.  Felicia suggested that he give me one of his bands ‘to make Miss Kim feel better.’  He gave me two green bands that matched my green dress.  When he took them off and handed them to me, I looked and they were both in the shape of angels.

Baby Craig had given me two angels. 

Of all the animal shapes that adorned his arm the two that he gave me were angels.  It was in that exact moment that I began to feel Kesner’s presence for the first time.

He was with me.  

I wore those green silly bands all summer long.

Baby Craig didn’t stay with us too long after that.  He was mesmerized by the large sprawling front yard. He immediately took off running.  It was the most precious site.  He was smiling and laughing and happy.  It made us happy to watch him run.  Felicia pulled out her i-phone and captured it on her camera.

A picture that Felicia took that day… Baby Craig Running

Children are such a blessing.

Klay, Baby Craig, and me in my lounge chair…

Talithea came by also.  She had just been sitting for the Principal’s exam and she was beside herself.  She thought she failed.  Talithea is an educator that fully understands and embraces the challenges and complexities of teaching in an urban school in today’s world.  She should be a principal. She gets it.  She had been preparing for this test for weeks, but she had not expected the kind of week that she was going to have leading up to the test.  I knew that she was feeling anxious, so I prayed for her.

It was my only prayer during that time.  The only communication between me and God, who I was mad at.

I told her so.  I told Talithea that if my prayers mean anything, “I want you to know that I prayed.”  She was thankful but still sad.  She didn’t want to bother me with her sadness, so she left me outside in my chair and went in the house to talk to my mom – The Comforter.

Mom was frying fish by this time and Talithea came in and just cried.  I don’t know many details about their encounter because I was not with them, but I know that my mom gave her comfort.  She made her feel better.  And soon Talithea joined us again on the patio with a glass of wine.  She was going to be ok.

It was around this time that they (the conspirators) had developed another food strategy.  They made me trade food for wine!  I could not have any wine unless I ate something.

The Horror!

Felicia made chicken salad.  She placed a plate of it next to me with some crackers.  If I wanted wine I had to eat a few bites.I  begrudgingly scooped a little onto a cracker and took a bite.

Oh..My…Goodness…!!!!!!!!!!!  Chicken salad never tasted so good!!  Oh my goodness!! What in the world was in that chicken salad?!?  I couldn’t deny it. I didnt want to let on that I was enjoying it – I wasnt supposed to be enjoying food -Kesner was still dead! But, food fast or no food fast, that chicken salad was the bomb!!!  I made one exception to my fast.  I would only eat chicken salad.  Nothing else.  And only enough to survive.

It was a small victory for the food conspirators.  Chicken salad it was!  As long as I was eating something.  And it would be that way for the rest of the week.  If I was hungry at all, Felicia just seemed to be right there to whip up some chicken salad on the spot.


That evening my mom went to the Kappa Ball for just a few moments to connect with Kesner’s fraternity brothers and give regards on my behalf.  They confirmed that the funeral was going to be the following Saturday.  They also expressed interest in doing a gathering, a visitation with me and my mom on Wednesday of that week.

When my mom returned, she took a bath and went to bed. Gayle and Klay enjoyed each other’s company by wine and candle light in the living room.  and I sat outside in the dark with my sorority sisters, Talithea and Qiyana.

It was the second week in June and fireflies were lighting the night sky.  It was beautiful. It looked like Christmas.  Twinkling lights. I felt like Kesner was putting on a show for me.  Wanting me to know that he was there. He was present.

The three of us talked for a bit and then Talithea soon retired to bed, she stayed with us that night.  Our last night at the house.

Qiyana and I sat a little longer.

I began to cry.  It was a loud pain – filled cry into the night.  I was still sitting in the lounge chair that I had been sitting in all day and Qiyana was sitting quietly by my side.  I cried and cried into the darkness. And then I stopped for a moment and  I looked at my friend with cancer and said to her with absolute authority :

“Don’t you dare die!  Don’t you leave me!”  I said “Qiyana, don’t you stop believing for one second that you are going to live!!!”

She looked at me and was silent for a while..    then she whispered:


And that was that. We went inside and went to bed.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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One Sunday after church, Talithea and I had brunch in New Hope Pennsylvania; a cute little town on the Deleware River.  After brunch we walked past a shop that said “Readings by Edith,”  Talithea said she wanted to go in and get a $15.00 palm reading. 

We prayed first. 

I wanted to be sure not to make an idol out of this.  I prayed that God would close our ears and hearts to things we weren’t meant to hear; that he would protect us from ourselves.  

The man who did the reading (Edith’s grandson, Robert) introduced himself and asked for Talithea’s first name and her birthday; then he proceeded to read her palm as if it were a book.  He read her very well.  How did he know so many things about my friend?  I was impressed.  I decided to get my palm read also.

Robert told me that I had a very old soul and that it probably wasn’t coming back after this lifetime.  He told me that the theme of my soul is justice.  He said that I am a very spiritual person, but that I am concerned with everything in the world right now (he said that twice).  And he told me that I would have two great loves. 

We left that afternoon, keeping all that we heard in perspective.  It was just an experience; an interesting one.  But I went home and I thought to myself:

Two great loves, huh?

That thought remained with me through my relationship with Kesner.  He was my first,  my first great love.  But I didn’t know what to make of the fact that I had been told that I would have two.  I tried not to think about it often. but when I did, I wondered if my second great love would be something else.  Maybe a hobby, a child or a dog. Nothing was going to happen to Kesner, right? 

Recently, and in the time since Kesner has been dead, friends in New York have been encouraging me to see a particular tarot card reader in Brooklyn. I’m afraid.  I dont want to know anymore.  I have been told that if I decide to go I should have questions for her.  About career, finances, stuff like that.  But I don’t really care that much about those things anymore.  Im sure my career will be fine and my finances too.  If I were to ask a question, I suppose it would be about love.  

Will I be mature enough to love and be loved for the rest of my life?  

A friend told me once that  Kesner died on a pedestal. That we weren’t together long enough for me to see his bad sides.  That I will forever have a glamorized view of who he was etched in my heart.  Kesner loved me incredibly. He loved me like somebody who knows they are dying. He seized every moment and made it special.  He was patient and forgiving and kind and thoughtful and romantic. His love was pure.

While he was living, I was not concerned over whether or not he would change.  My concern was about me.  Could I stand to be loved like that for the rest of my life?  Could I accept it?  Not doubt it?  Not question it? Ever?  Would I always be the kind of wonderful that he thought I was?  Did he see more in me than I saw in myself?

It was not him on the pedestal.  It was me. Could I stand it?

I had to be broken to receive love.  And I was finally broken.  When Kesner died I felt like someone took a club and knocked my knees out from under me.  I felt like somebody took a shovel and dug hole in my chest.  My heart was missing.  I was on the ground. I had nothing to give.  All I could do was receive  LOVE.


And back at the country house, just two days after Kesner died, LOVE was all around….    

When my mom and I returned from our lunch in downtown Hopewell, LOVE was waiting for us in the driveway.  Talithea was sitting in the driveway and she had Qiyana and TJ in the car. TJ is Talithea’s six year old son.  I didn’t realize it until I saw him, but children are wonderful at a time like that.  They help to keep you in the present moment.  My mom wanted to go to the grocery store, so she and Talithea went to the local market while Qiyana, TJ and I sat outside on the patio in the afternoon sun.  And for a few moments, I stepped outside of my personal hell; because TJ was there.

The afternoon passed quickly after that. I don’t remember many details.  TJ’s dad came to get him.  Mom and Talithea returned and Felicia came by. I remember that they brought me a newspaper.  Kesner was on the front page. “Candidate Dead at 35,” the headline read.

The front page article

This was the article that we forwarded to friends and family.

Before we knew it, it was evening and Klay and Gayle had arrived from New York.  Klay entered wearing a seersucker jacket, a white v-neck tee, fitted seersucker bermuda shorts and matching flip flops.  He was carrying an Hermes weekender.   We all commented on how great he looked:

 “It’s just basic” he said.  We laughed.


Gayle was there also.  Glitter Pop.  She was wearing a rhinestone studded Tee shirt and blue jeans, and she was bejeweled in diamonds and sapphires.  “Just Basic,” she said.  We laughed again.   Talithea and Felicia had gone to pick up Gayle and Klay from the train station.  And while they were out, they picked up one more surprise visitor.


Hussain came in wearing a red Kappa Alpha Psi Jacket and blue jeans.  That’s all I saw. The red.  The jacket.  Kappa Alpha Psi. Kesner might as well have walked in the room.

Hussain is Kesner’s fraternity brother and dear friend.  He said that he needed to see me. He sat next to me on the couch in the living room and he put his arm around me and I rested my head on those greek letters.   Kappa Alpha Psi.

Hussain reiterated that they had been missing me around Kesner’s house.  They were wondering where I was.  He said that Kesner’s ex-girlfriend had been doing… a lot.  And that the fraternity brothers wanted to see me.  He tried to get me to come to the Kappa Black and White Ball, it was happening the following evening.  I didn’t want to go. So we decided that my mom would go in my stead, just for a few minutes; to give my regards to the Kappas.

So that night, all of us: Gayle and Klay, Hussain, Mom, Talithea and Felicia, and I sat around the candle lit living room of the country house.   We had a nice time.  We looked at Pictures of Kesner on line.  One of them had logged on to their facebook page and we looked on line at all of the tributes to him.  Different people expressing their feelings about him.  All sorts of pictures. It was pleasant.

Before Hussain left he told me one other thing.

“We found all of this medicine in his house.   A bunch of insulin shots in his fridge.  And a lot of high blood pressure medication that he wasn’t taking.  I don’t think Kesner was taking care of himself….”


I shut that idea down immediately.

“There’s no way.  I saw him take his shots.” 

They don’t know what they’re talking about; I resolved.  There was just no way. Kesner would never have allowed this to happen intentionally… 

There was just no way.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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I said a bad word. I cursed. I did. In the middle of my last post I said F Cancer. I apologize. That’s an awful word, the F word. So offensive. The most offensive word I could think of to say.

But the thing is, even the most offensive word that I can think of does not come close to capturing how I feel about cancer. 

Do you know anyone with cancer? Have you ever lost someone that you really love to cancer? Do you have cancer? 

If you can answer yes to any of these, then you understand what I meant when I said – F Cancer!!! If you haven’t, God bless you. I hope that you never have any up close encounters with cancer. It’s horrible. 

I know someone who has cancer. Qiyana. My sister and my friend. She has metastatic breast cancer and she’s not even 30. The doctors say that she will be on chemo for the rest of her life. 

I want to know what God says. 

Qiyana doesn’t let cancer define her. She is so much more than that terrible disease. She is a humanitarian. And a teacher. She loves children and is passionate about them. She’s also a little militant. My style. 

She was telling me recently how she doesn’t say the pledge of allegiance at her school. She teaches in the Willingboro, NJ school district and the school is over-crowded; she works in a classroom that was meant to be a storage room. 

“The classroom has no windows, Kim….That’s like setting the kids up to go to prison.” 

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in a classroom with no windows, especially since I was the kid that was always looking out of the window. Day dreaming about what I could be; where I would go. It is so important for children to dream. 

Qiyana says that she is not going to say the pledge until they figure out these discrepancies; these macro-inequities. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t either. 

Qiyana is also passionate about family. She has the biggest family that I’ve ever met. And I swear she is always introducing me to new family members. I can’t keep it straight. But I get it. Some are family in blood. Others are family in love. She calls me her sister now. so that means that I’m family too, that’s pretty cool. I always wanted a big family. And a sister.

But back to that horrible word I said. The F word. I actually prayed about it. 

And I got a nod. 

I was at Qiyana’s house two Sunday’s ago. I asked her if I could help with anything around the house; she is always turning down my offers to help. But this time she said, there is one thing… 

“Can you help me fold my clothes and hang them up?” 

She had a pile of clean clothes on her bed. She didn’t have the energy to put them away. The Dr. increased her dosage of chemo that week. Her hair is falling out again. 

As I helped my sister sort her clothes. Hang some on hangers and fold others in drawers, I fought back tears. There we were in her dimly lit apartment doing this simple task that most people take for granted, and all I could think was:


Sorry. I did it again. I cant help it. I just hate cancer so much.

When I was a little girl I had a 40 year old friend named Pat; Pat was my babysitter and my friend. We used to sit at the kitchen table and drink English tea and have conversation. We also enjoyed watching All My Children together. On the soap opera, women would slap their husbands and say: “I hate you.” I asked Pat, “What does it mean to say you hate someone?” Pat said “It means you wish they were never born.” Well that made perfect sense to me. I would spend the rest of my life being careful about who I said I hated. 

But I can say that I hate cancer. I wish it was never born. 

I mean, what is it? And where did it come from? Why haven’t we always had it? And why are there some countries with no reported cases?

I hate what cancer does to people: Families. Children. Spouses.  Friends…

Qiyana says that she thinks that people who die from cancer die because they get tired. tired of the chemo and radiation and surgeries and pain; I believe her. My aunt died of liver cancer in February 2010. The last time that I saw her (in December) she said: “I’m tired.” 

Qiyana’s not tired. She says over and over: “I’m just not going to get tired. I can’t get tired.” 

Don’t get tired, Qiy. Please don’t get tired. 

She has an incredible attitude. 

My sister. 



Qiyana Brown passed away on May 22, 2011.  That was her 28th Birthday.  She had a chance to read this before she passed and for that I am grateful. Before she passed her best friend, Pierre Coleman, produced a documantary about her journey with cancer, click here to see the film online:

Qiyana’s  homegoing was beautiful, complete with a horse drawn carraige that carried her white casket through the streets of Newark.  Qiyana is free now… free  from the horrible disease.  Rest in Peace my sister.





Qiyana R. Brown 5/22/83 – 5/22/11

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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In the months after Kesner died, I struggled over whether or not to keep Kesner’s phone number in my phone. We weren’t broken up.  We weren’t finished.  Wasn’t he still my man?  even though he was dead?  My emotions were jumbled and confused.  We weren’t over.

I spoke to my counselor, Monica, about it.  She told me that I didn’t have to erase his number if I wasn’t ready.  She even suggested that I give him a call or send him a text message if I needed to.  So I started with the texts.  Every once and a while I would send a text: 

Hey boo.  Love you.  Miss you.  Thinking of you.  Love you.  Love you. 

 It helped. 

Well one Thursday afternoon in October, I got a call back from Kesner’s phone number.  My heart stopped when I saw : ‘Kesner Calling.’  I answered. It was a man.  He asked me to please stop texting “I love you” to his son.  


The phone company has given his number away.  

“Sorry, that’s my boyfriend’s old number, he’s dead.” 

Thankfully this all happened as I was pulling up at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square; I was there to meet my mother, The Comforter.  When I walked into the hotel room she was laying on the bed wearing a white fluffy robe taking a “nap.”  She looked cute; she was only half sleeping. I didn’t tell her about the text thing right away but I did start to tear up.  She said “I know, this really sucks.” 

She went on to tell me how she had just had a good cry for herself.  She was looking forward to being in the next mom season; the season where you are planning a wedding with your daughter.  And she waslooking forward to grandchildren.  She was grieving the season that we were so close to and now felt so far from.  She said, “I know you’re sad, but can we talk about me right now?”  that made me laugh. 

I love my mom. 

That night we went to the ELC dinner at the Hilton.  The ELC (Executive Leadership Council) is a group of the top 300 black corporate executives in the US.  The dinner was fabulous and Klay joined us.  We had a nice time together. 


After the dinner my mom and I had chocolate martinis at the Marriott.  We talked more and I finally told her about the text thing. She was troubled that I was still texting his phone, but she tried not to show it.  She said “I’m so proud of you.  you’re so strong.  I’m so proud of you, baby…”

I know it pained her to see me that way; I’d shaved my head by this time… 

My mom went on to say another thing.  She said: “There is someone out there for you, baby, and I think he’s at Rutgers.  Be open.”  I told her about this guy that I always see in the library; the second year law student. He seems..  different.  He’s really nice to the librarian, Phyllis. I like Phyllis. And I like that he treats her well.  But that’s it. ‘I’m so clearly not ready,’ I said.  My mom agreed. 

But I miss being in love.  It wasn’t over between Kesner and me, and I miss love.  I want to give and receive love.  I feel like I’ve learned new lessons about love; Kesner taught me so many. And I’ve learned even more in this season of loss.  I have done a lot of reflecting; I’ve taken inventory of my shortcomings.  

How could I have loved differently?  More freely?  Without pride? 

I feel like I’m being prepared for the incredible love that I will share with my husband; the father of our children. There is part of me that wants to get started right away; I want to love in the new accepting and patient way that I have learned. But the other part of me knows that I will have to wait.  I’m not  ready.  And he (whoever he is) may not be ready either. 

Sometimes I think about who this special guy might be, the love of myfuture. Is he reading this post right now? I get excited thinking about how incredible he is.  He is creative and sensitive. He is forgiving and patient. He is wonderfully complicated; my complexity matches his. I love him already.  And our children that we will raise together. I love them also. 

Thinking about all of these things had my emotions all balled up that week. By the time I got to church on that Sunday morning I was an emotional train wreck.  Lynn preached about the four men who lifted the roof off of a house to lower their friend to see Jesus. 

Back Story: 

Jesus was preaching in a house.  There was a man who was paralyzed and needed a healing.  Four of his friends brought him to Jesus on a mat, hoping that Jesus would heal him.  When they arrived there were too many people around, so they dug a hole through the roof and lowered the man in from above.  “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the man: your sins are forgiven…pick up your mat and walk.”  The man was no longer paralyzed and he picked up his mat and walked home. He was healed.

Lynn talked about the kind of determination it takes to tear the roof off of a house to get to Jesus.  She talked about the faith of those friends that dug and dug and pulled a roof apart with their bare hands to bring their paralyzed friend to Jesus (the roof was probably made with mud and clay). 

I cried and cried as I listened to her sermon.  I was that man; that paralyzed friend.  And my friends, and my mom, and my brother, Michael; they were digging.  Whether they knew it or not, whether it was intentional or not; they are the ones who have been carrying me to Jesus. 

I had two emotion-filled conversations after church that day; one with Laura and one with Andy.  Laura is a massage therapist and she’d wanted to give me a massage for the past few months.  Massage is one of her spiritual gifts and she is open about her faith in her work.  I was already planning to have that massage after church that day, and I was so thankful because I really needed it.  She followed me home and we talked as she was setting up the table.  I cried and shared many thoughts with her.  She told me about a book “Embraced By the Light” which she subsequently loaned to me to read.  Then she gave me the best massage I’ve ever had.  I am usually not a massage ‘table talker,’ but we talked the entire time.  We talked about deep and meaningful things.  On the table, I felt like the paralytic receiving a healing – yet another one.  I was so thankful when she was finished.  It was time for me to pick up my mat and walk.  As soon as she left, I immediately returned to telling my story… 


It was morning of the third day; the third day after Kesner died, Friday.  My mom and I were sitting on opposite couches in the living room at the country house.  Everyone was gone.  Klay, Andrea and Monet left early to return to New York.  It was pretty depressing. Just mom and me.   I wasn’t saying much and I could tell that my mom was hurting to see me this way.  The only interesting moments were when she would get a phone call.

when mom would get a call, I would just sit and watch her.  I would listen to her end of the conversation:

“yeah”…. “not so good” …. “thank you, please keep us in your prayers.”  …”he was an incredible young man, and he loved my child.”

But beyond the phone calls, we were just sitting there looking at each other. Both of us realized that we needed some more energy in the house.  People.

Around that time, Klay sent a text message to my mom.  He said that he’d made it safely back to New York but he was willing to come back to Hopewell if we wanted him to.  Mom and I said “yes, please come back…  and bring Gayle with you.”  We also gave a call to Talithea.  She was coming as well and she was going to bring TJ.

And then a text came in: “Hey Sis, I’m on my way.  Been trying to get to you but I had Chemo yesterday. I had to wait to build up my energy.”  It was…

Qiyana. My sister. My line sister in Delta Sigma Theta. Qiyana was trying to get….  to me?  That’s the sort of thing that gives you pause.  Qiyana has cancer.


When you’re grieving you can become very selfish.  Self absorbed.  But when someone leaves Chemo Therapy to come see you and spend time with you in your grief, you have no choice but to step outside of yourself for a moment.  Obviously you can see how I feel about cancer.  More about that in the next chapter…

So company was coming.  Talithea and TJ, Gayle and Klay, and Qiyana.  We would also have two more surprise visitors before the night ended.  We had people to look forward to.

It was lunch time by now.  While we waited for our company to arrive, mom suggested that we walk around the town of Hopewell and get something to eat.  We went to a café in town.  Mom ordered me a bowl of pea soup.  It just sat there.  I wasn’t eating.

Pea Soup

There were two women sitting at a table close by.  It was clear that they were gossiping.  They really made me angry.  I wanted to walk up to them and flip over their table. I wanted to tell them how stupid their conversation was and how precious life is.  But I didn’t have the energy. or the will.  Instead I just sat there in contempt.

Refusing to eat.

And then I looked again.  The waiter had brought them the most decadent looking piece of chocolate cake.  It was beautiful and yummy looking.


That piece of cake would be just the sort of thing that Kesner would have wanted to eat but wouldn’t have been able to eat.  He had diabetes.  He had to watch his sugar.  In that moment I decided that whenever I did start eating again, I was going to enjoy sweets.  I was going to enjoy them for the rest of my life…  for Kesner.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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