Thank You Very Sweet

Shortly after my outing with Courtney, I received an emotion-filled voicemail.  I could hardly make out what the caller was saying, she was literally crying into the phone. but I recognized the voice…

It was Tasha.

This was a voice that I hadn’t heard in over two years, and it was a voice that I missed dearly. Could it be that the horrible tragedy of Kesner’s death had birthed a reconciliation between two old friends?

When Tasha and I ended our friendship two years prior, my soul told me that we weren’t completely finished. But how would we ever cross the bridge that had been burnt?  ‘Only God can do that,’ I’d resolved.  And God did, in God’s time. Hearing her tearful message lifted my spirit. My heart leaped in my chest.  The cold war had ended.

Tasha is a childhood friend. We grew up together as youth and young adults at Olivet Institutional Baptist Church.

Back in the day at Olivet, there were four of us who were really close: Me, Tasha, Jocelyn and Carla. On Sunday mornings we would split from our parents and sit together in the back of the church; the very last pew on the far right side of the balcony was where we encountered Jesus from week-to-week. It is also where I made paper hats out of candy wrappers and placed them on the heads of unsuspecting strangers.  But aside from my small bouts of social deviance, we were mostly good.

Jocelyn was the responsible one, Carla held down the steady high school relationship, Tasha had the incredible smile and infectious laugh, and I was the flighty one who couldn’t drive very well.   We went to different schools and were involved in different activities, but our faith tied us together. We were four Christian teenage girls and our faith was the foundation of our friendship.

After high school we all went off to different colleges. Jocelyn went to Washington University, Carla went to The University of Michigan, Tasha went to Northwestern University and I went to Spelman College. We were far apart but we always made a point to connect with each other during breaks – typically over a holiday brunch at Yours Truly.

And such would be the case -that we would live in different cities- as we progressed into adulthood.

That is until one fateful summer when the stars aligned to place Tasha and me in the same place at the same time.

Cleveland-Summer 2006

I imagine that my summer 2006 is much like what ‘they’ say about the summer of ’69. Simply Fabulous. I was home working as a Pastoral Intern at Olivet and Tasha was a Fellow with the Cleveland Foundation. From June-August, 2006 Cleveland was our oyster and Tasha and I had an absolute blast! We had never been adults in our home town and it was like seeing the city with new eyes. We went to the best events, discovered new neighborhoods, got caught up in random situations and laughed non stop, while cruising to T.I.’s “Big Things Poppin” in our matching Toyota Carollas. We had a wonderful friendship-summer and that season brought us very close.

Tasha and I have a kinetic vibe. Our energy bounces off of one another. We are excitable and we can laugh about almost anything.

And not only that, but I value Tasha’s wisdom, she is a wonderful counselor. She taught me the concept of healthy selfishness. She also taught me how to use “I” statements when in the midst of conflict. She is a treasure to me and at one point our friendship was tighter than a pair of skinny jeans.

But then we fell out.

Neither one of us can say exactly why, but we fell out in spring 2008 and it was bad. So bad that I refused to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. So bad that we didn’t speak for two years. It was bad and I didn’t know how it could ever be good again. God would have to do it.

and God did.

After hearing her tearful message, I called Tasha back immediately. There was so much to say, yet nothing to say at all. Neither one of us wanted to dwell  on those things that had wedged the divide. Rather we decided to dwell in the comfort of the love that was still there.  She said that she had been sitting in church when the announcement was made that my fiancé died. She said that the congregation gasped upon hearing the news, and that she had to leave the sanctuary and cry.

 “How could this have happened and I didn’t even know you were engaged”, she cried.

I corrected her. Apparently the church knew that Kesner was my boyfriend but they made the decision to announce that he was my fiancé. The rationale was that: “if we announce that Rev Kim’s ‘friend’ died, then people will be expecting us to make an announcement every time a friend or acquaintance dies.” According to some, calling him my fiancé added legitimacy to my loss.

…And it meant that I would have to spend the summer making corrections- “no, he was ‘JUST’ my boyfriend..”

I corrected Tasha and told her that I was not engaged, but I was very much in love. She understood that the loss was just as severe and she offered me her love and support. We ended the call with tentative plans.  “We’ll meet for coffee...”  We had finally reconciled and I would see my dear friend again. My heart was filled with joy and relief. Tasha and I would get together for coffee on the week after next…

We would get together after mom and I got back from the Links Convention.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

Let’s see, where was I? The funeral, yes; how disappointing. My mom told me to begin that way but truthfully it was more than disappointing, it was painful. For a few reasons. I think it best to begin with my own bondage…

My ego.

The ego is sneaky and it creeps up on you when you least expect it. And even though I was bereaved, grieving, low, my sneaky little ego snuck its way into the situation…

I had a feeling that the funeral was going to be high drama and I was sure that I would be part of that. The tragic grieving girlfriend that found her boyfriend dead… Sad lover of a slain hero.

I felt like Jaqueline Bouvier Kennedy…

 I felt like Corretta Scott King…    Or Betty Shabazz…

 you get it, EXTRA!

I kept telling myself I had to look good, in case there were cameras…I decided on a black ribbed Calvin Klein dress with a simple flare skirt. I wore black satin peep toe heels, each with four large gem stones at the toe. I wore my hair just off my face with long curly tendrils that dangled down the back, and I had on dark sunglasses and dark red lipstick, almost burgundy. Drama.

My mother, equally dramatic, had on a simple black St John dress, black pumps and a very large wide brimmed black hat. We decided to arrive early and in style. Aunt Carole had arranged a town car and driver for us so that we could “maintain our dignity,” as my mother so aptly put it. And we arrived at the church promptly at 10AM.

The viewing began at 10 and the funeral followed at 11.We entered the sanctuary and sat in the third pew from the front on the left side of the sanctuary. We sat directly behind the amazing Kappas who were seated in the first two pews; the other side was reserved for family. Earlier in the week I had been invited to sit with Kesner’s family but I was more comfortable sitting with my family:“The Comforter” (mom), “The Man” (Mike), “Soul Friend” (Jessie) and Klay (“Fabulous in the Flesh”). “Where in the world is Andrea Michelle?” (Andrea) and “Haystacks..” (Kristen) sat in the pew directly behind us.  I decided that I would sit on the aisle, just in case people wanted to grab my hand, hug me, or tell me how sorry they were for my loss.  But it didn’t quite happen that way

…Nobody grabbed my hand, greeted me, or hugged me. And there were no cameras.

I soon realized that I was just one of many in the crowd. And not only that, but I began to realize what a small part of Kesner’s life I was. There were all of these pictures on display in the vestibule. Pictures of him as a boy, then a young man, and an All American wrestler at Seton Hall. I hardly recognized him in these pictures. Who was this? He was much bigger then. Huge. He used to be this big huge muscular guy. Was this the same person?

When I dated Kesner he was athletic, but slender. He told me that people used to call him “Big Kez” back in the day, but I just humored him. I thought he was exaggerating. But he wasn’t. At one time he had been this big huge guy. And there were all of these pictures to prove it.This was the moment that I began to understand that he knew he was dying. He was so slim when he died. Beautiful to me, but very different from the way he had once been.

He had experienced major changes in his body as his disease, undiagnosed for so long, ran its course. I’m sure there were people who wondered why I didn’t notice how much weight he was loosing. It was because I only knew him as a slender man. His weight loss didn’t seem drastic until I saw those photos.  All of this made me realize just how short our little romance was. It never seemed short because it wasn’t going to end. We were planning our whole lives and we were wildly in love…

But in the blink of an eye it was cut off abruptly and then suddenly our relationship seemed like a short little affair, an affair acknowledged only by those who knew us best..

Wow.

I sat still and watched as different people filed in to view “the body.” The Kappas stood stoically flanked on either side of his casket. There were so many people and they just kept coming. There was screaming, and hollering, and loud crying; painful moans. Who were all these people? – I thought. Where were they? They weren’t looking for Kesner like I was last Wednesday, when Kesner was laying dead alone in his house. Who were all these people coming out of the woodworks hollering and passing out? I began to feel resentful and angry. Plus no one was paying attention to me. I stiffened up and I froze in my seat. Pissed. I just kept thinking: I was the only one who was looking for him last week…

This was all made worse by the slide show that was playing during the viewing. As promised, Kesner’s brother put together a slide show of pictures from different points in Kesner’s life. I watched the slide show anxiously awaiting the pictures of Kesner and Me. I had uploaded some onto his brother’s computer a few days prior. How beautiful, I thought. They would be at the end. The slide show would end with pictures of Kesner and his last love…

But there were no pictures of us at the end. by the time the slide show played in the church those pictures had been omitted. And then I looked at the program. I read the obituary that I had seen a few days prior. I looked for my name. The draft of the obituary that I saw had my name listed among the bereaved, but by the time of the funeral, my name had been omitted from the obituary as well. There was no trace of me in Kesner’s life remembered. I was just one in the crowd. That was painful and humbling.

“Disenfranchised Grief” is what my counselor, Monica, would later call it. I hurt so badly and so deeply, yet I didn’t feel connected to any of this.  At some point Drew/Angel approached me and whispered in my ear: “whatever happens today, remember what you had…” I appreciated that but it was becoming harder and harder to remember. I was beginning to feel like such a small speck in Kesner’s life. The girlfriend. The last girlfriend. Maybe my name might come up in passing: “…who found him again?” but that would be it. No one would know about our beautiful love story. How deep and meaningful and real it was. How he canoed me six miles down a river and how we danced all night in the park while I sang in his ear…

Nobody would know how badly I was hurting. I wished that Kesner would get out of that casket!! He would be looking for me in the crowd, I know he would. He would pull me into his arms and show everybody that I was his woman.

But he was still dead.

So I just sat there. And I stared at his dead body. And I watched people pay their respects one by one as I gripped a framed picture of Kesner and me in my lap, so that I could remember what we had.

There was a grand procession when the family arrived. There were so many family members and their grief was audible and big. Outstanding in the group was his mother, Beautiful Simone. She wore all white in a sea of black, and she spoke loudly with authority and faith as she was ushered down the center aisle of the church:“Get up Kesner… Get out of that box…that’s not Kesner in that box.. Get up my son”

Yes!! – I thought. Get out of that box Kesner!! That’s not you!! Get up please, my Love!!

But he didn’t get up. He just laid there.

Once Beautiful Simone was seated, my mother and brother went over to greet her. I wanted to go but I couldn’t move. I was frozen, my eyes were glazed over and I just stared blankly at the body in the box.

My mom hugged Kesner’s mom and said “we were supposed to have beautiful grandchildren together..” his mom said “yes we were. where is Kim? She was supposed to sit with us….”  As this conversation was happening, I looked across the aisle and I saw my mother beckoning me over to greet Beautiful Simone. I stood up, but I didn’t know how I would walk. Just then the Polemarch and Vice Polemarch of Kesner’s amazing fraternity (president and vice president) flanked me on both sides and, arm in arm, they escorted me over to Kesner’s mother. If I wanted a public statement moment, that was it. They walked me to her, we hugged, and then they walked me around the sanctuary and back to my seat. I was thankful.

And the truth was that this wasn’t about me, my ego needed to be checked. This hadn’t just happened to me. It happened to an entire family – brothers, a mother and a father. It happened to a fraternity. It happened to colleagues, friends and to an entire community. Kesner’s death happened to us. Kesner’s loss was a blow to everyone, and this was obvious by the cries and moans and overflow crowd; the church was packed. People flew in from across the country and over seas and there was not a free seat in the house.

I began to appreciate Kesner differently. He was absolutely incredible. Our lives and our love didn’t exist in a vacuum. He touched the lives of so many. And they were all there to pay their respects. I decided to readjust my attitude and allow myself to be ministered to.

Several really beautiful things happened at the funeral: Mercer County Community College, where Kesner served as a board member, dedicated a scholarship in his name. Members of Kesner’s family spoke with great love and remembrance. And the Kappa Polemarch gave an eloquent presentation about Kesner and his commitment to, and impact on, the fraternity.

Most beautiful was his mother, however. Beautiful Simone stood in the pulpit and spoke about her son. She shared loving memories and she talked about her faith. She said he was an angel. A gift for a short amount of time, but we would see him again. She was a vision in all white and she spoke with her four surviving sons positioned around her. It was a sight to behold. Once again she had given me perspective…

The first time that Beautiful Simone offered me perspective was three months prior when I met her for the first time at the Kappa Jazz Brunch. We sat together while Kesner was working the room for his campaign. I was very sad because we had just lost funding for the women center; my life’s work was coming to an end. But then she began to prophesy to me at the table. She told me that “first comes suffering, then healing, then victory!” She went on to tell me that her Sister, niece and grand niece had been trapped under a building for three days during the earthquake in Haiti. And not only that, but Kesner was also in Haiti during the time of the earthquake. Everyone told her that they were all dead, but her faith told her otherwise. She prayed and fasted until she heard from Kesner. And then from her sister who eventually dug herself, child and grandchild, out from under the building. I immediately began to cry. We were sitting at this public brunch hunched over at a table having this conversation and tears were streaming down my face. She gave me perspective.

Our funding issues in New Jersey paled in comparison to the devastation in Haiti.

 Kesner came over and saw my tears. He was confused. But he was also touched and fully aware that we were having a very powerful interaction. I felt connected to her….

And now there she stood, once again offering perspective. If she could stand there in the pulpit of her child’s funeral and speak about her first born son with such authority and grace, surely I could make it through this service. She was awesome and the microphone should have been unplugged as soon as she was finished speaking.

But it wasn’t

.………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was now time for the eulogy, the ultimate pastoral care moment. I knew the preacher was gifted and I looked forward to being ministered to.

That did not happen.

The sermon opened with insults: “when I first met Kesner I thought he was arrogant, conceited, flamboyant… but then I realized that the arrogance was really confidence, and the flamboyance was really fervor for the Lord, and…”   Wow, I thought. But did you have to open with insults???

He went on..

He spoke about his experience of being in Haiti with Kesner. They had been part of a local delegation of pastors and lay persons that went to Haiti to provide medical care to a small town north of Port-au-Prince. Several hours after they arrived the earthquake hit the city. “The women traveling with us were nervous”, he said, “at night they would cry out Kesner’s name, and he would get up and attend to them..” I have no doubt that this is true because this is the type of guy that Kesner was. But he went on to say “..nobody ever called my name. I guess that’s because I wasn’t as muscular as Kesner. He wore those fitted shirts and you could see all of his muscles…”  Huh? I thought, scratching my head in confusion. Why was he talking about Kesner’s body? I was embarrassed, as I’m sure Kesner would have been also…

He went on to talk about his life in Trenton professionally and then personally. “…Kesner wanted to settle down. To have a family. With Solissa, or Kim.. WHOEVER!”   

I believe the name that he was trying to say was Alice (Kesner’s ex). But something sounding like Solissa came out of his mouth. I think Kesner’s spirit must have twisted his tongue in that moment.But how dare he invoke my name so irresponsibly? If he didn’t know who Kesner was dating he should not have said anything at all. To hear him say my name and then SHOUT “whoever” immediately after it felt like a stab in the heart. It was unnecessary. I was mortified.

But the worst part of it all was the close of the sermon: “…Kesner you took care of everyone else but WHY, WHY didn’t you take care of yourself?” “WHY didn’t you take the needle Kesner??… the NEEDLE!!…” he went on a five minute rampage inferring that Kesner killed himself because he wasn’t taking his insulin.Was anyone else hearing this????  – I thought.

Are you crazy?!

I was so angry. I know my ego had been out of proportion earlier but this was something other. How dare he even SPEAK about Kesner taking his needles?!!!! He wasn’t there! Nobody was there but me! I was there every day and I watched him take those shots!!!

Every day. Before meals. After meals. HE WAS NOT AFRAID OF THE NEEDLE!!

I was so pissed. And he saw me, I know he did. I sat in the first pew and I shook my head and mouthed “NO! you’re wrong!” over and over again. I cried and shook my head. His words were so hurtful. They felt like a million stabs in the heart. How dare he use Kesner’s death as a public service announcement to diabetics?! This was not the time or place. How dare he blame Kesner for his own death in his eulogy!

At one point I felt my mom grab my arm. I think she thought I might run up there and grab the microphone out of his hand. I wanted to. I wanted to run into the pulpit, unplug the mic and vomit on his shoes. I wanted to rip his manuscript in 1000 pieces and set it on fire!!

This is how I felt!!

I came to the homegoing service with my open wounds and he poured salt and acid into them with his irresponsible words.

I was not the only one struggling with ego that day. “…was the pastor jealous of Kesner?” Gayle’s fiancée asked on the ride home from the funeral. And not just him, but my mother, church members, friends and fellow seminarians shared the same sentiment: what was up with that?!

As Monet so aptly put it: “it was unprofessional!”

During a eulogy a minister always has the opportunity to rise above themselves and provide comfort in a difficult situation. Many of us watched President Obama do that very thing in his speech at the Tucson Memorial. He rose above ugly partisanship during that time, and he evoked comforting thoughts, like that of a nine year old girl jumping in rain puddles in heaven.

Monet’s mentor in Ministry, Reverend Gary Simpson, says that “during a funeral there is a battle between life and death going on in the hearts of the people, and the job of the funeral sermon is to make sure that LIFE wins.” When someone dies you preach Life. And Healing. And Love. And Hope.

But death won this day because this pastor was not able to rise above his worldly bondage. His ego got the best of him and he made that sermon about him and his perspective about Kesner. Did he even talk to the family? – I wondered. Reverend Moss taught me that you Always interview the family..

But he spoke from his limited perspective. He insulted him, painted him out to be a player and then he blamed him for his death and he sat down. It was unbelievable and I will never forget it as long as I live.

.…………………………………………………………………………………………….

After the sermon a woman sang “Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior” I had requested that, and I was thankful that it had not been omitted like everything else. She blew it out of the water. Her voice was absolutely incredible and she sang it better than anyone had all week. It was a pocket of grace.

Then the pastor gave the internment – he did not go to the grave site – and with that the funeral was over.

I tried to step into the aisle to leave but I was overwhelmed by the crowd. People poured out of the pews and I was overtaken. Mom said that in that moment I reminded her of my little tree, Hope, when she was still planted in Kesner’s yard. Hope was being overtaken by the shade of a much larger tree and if she had been left in that spot she would have died.

We sat back down and decided to wait for the crowd to clear. I was suffocating. I wanted out. And I was embarrassed. I knew that people had come to the funeral to support me and I wished that they hadn’t. I was ashamed.

When I finally made it down the aisle I saw Mara and Pete and Barbara Coe. I saw Andy and Angie from my church. I saw my Link sisters from New York: Barbara, Lavonnie, Inez, and “Glitter Pop” (Gayle). My chapter president was there, Anna Maria, and Hazel Dukes.

Friends from Ohio were there, Monique, Mrs. Davis and sweet little Jillian. And Jevon, God bless him. It was to be his bachelor party weekend and he sacrificed the first part of the weekend to be at Kesner’s funeral.

So many had come and I was so touched. But I was embarrassed, by that sermon especially. I was so uncomfortable and I wanted to crawl out of my skin and climb in the casket with Kesner and die. But instead I just sat there. We all just sat in the empty sanctuary until everyone was gone. It was decided that we wouldn’t go to the burial site. It had all been too much.

Felicia graciously opened her home for a reception, but the reception wasn’t scheduled to begin for another two hours and the food had not arrived. We decided that we would go to the Trenton Marriott with our hungry New York guests before heading over to Felicia’s. Thankfully our group was the only one there. We sat around an iron table on the patio and had salad and wine.

We reflected on the events of the day and I learned that I was not the only one who had been caught off guard by that horrific eulogy. “Its time for you to get out of Trenton and move back to New York,” one said. And just like that it seemed to be decided. They all lifted their glasses and toasted to my impending return to New York City. Anna Maria would spend the rest of the summer sending me apartment listings in Harlem.

But was I ready to leave?

It was all so confusing and I was overwhelmed. I felt like I had been in a horrible fight. All of the good things that led up to the day of the funeral were canceled out. Kesner might as well have died all over again. They were right about one thing, I needed to get away. It was time to go home.

We said goodbye to our New York guests and headed to Felicia’s house. Sweet Soul Friend Jessie knew how upset I was and suggested that we do a round of affirmations. The people gathered at Felicia’s were my closest friends and they all took turns making affirming statements about my relationship with Kesner. It was very sweet.We then decided to go around the corner to a cookout that was being hosted by the Pan-Hellenic council. I thought it might be good to do something light and uplifting. But it wasn’t uplifting. Instead I just watched as life began to move on. Many of the same people who were at the funeral earlier were at the cookout enjoying themsleves. They were moving on. But I wasn’t ready to move on. I wasn’t ready to kick back and enjoy the party.

We decided to leave and go back to Felicia’s, we didn’t stay very long.

That night we all stayed at Felicia’s house: mom, me, Kristen, and Andrea. Mike went back to my apartment and everyone else went their separate ways. Felicia’s was very comfortable; it was the next comfortable place that I would stay.  And in the morning we said goodbye, packed my car and sent Mike and Diva (my cat) off on the road for the seven hour journey. We would meet them in Ohio.

And Mom and I went to the airport, it was time to go home to Ohio. We sat in first class, thanks to aunt Carole, and I looked out of the window and reflected.

What next? Am I really leaving Trenton for good? Kesner and I loved Trenton together. But now he was gone. Was I really going back to New York? And what about grief? Is there a statute of limitations that comes with the grieving experience? Would my time to grieve be up soon? I wasn’t ready. Would there be people there in Ohio just as my friends in New Jersey had been there?

So many questions…

But I also breathed a sigh of relief. I was going home. And home is exactly where I needed to be.

And as we took off,  I had one more thought:

I definitely have to write about this.  Kesner and I have a story and one day I am going to tell it..

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

While mom and I were at the private viewing on Friday afternoon, Felicia drove out to Newark airport to pick up my brother, Michael.

The Man.

My brother, Michael, told me exactly what I should write about him. He told me to start his story in Southern Ohio, where he was when he heard the news about Kesner. He wanted me to tell you about how he couldn’t sleep. He was angry all week about the death of his “future brother-in-law.”

He told me to tell you about his mentor, “The Master Sergeant,” who encouraged him to get to New Jersey so that he could provide support for his mom and his sister. He even told me that I should call this chapter of the story  “The Man,” because that’s what mom and I kept calling him….

and this would be true.

Michael is a special guy. He cares about people. He cares about family. Michael is my youngest brother, we are eight years apart in age.  When I left home at 18 to go to college, he was only 10. Thus, he was etched in my mind as my ‘baby brother.’ But Michael is no baby, he is every bit of a man, and this experience showed me that….

Michael couldn’t sleep; all of this had been happening in New Jersey and he wanted to be with mom and me.  Michael and I had been in contact earlier in the week and he could tell that I was in bad shape; I didn’t have much conversation for him over the phone.

He initially called with all that jargon :”God is Good” “God has a Plan…”

and that was all the stuff I wasn’t trying to hear.  He was trying to minister to me but it wasn’t working. So he decided that he just needed to come and be present with me, maybe not try to say anything at all.

At the time, Michael was a graduating senior in education at Central State University. He is passionate about working with children who have learning disabilities because he was diagnosed with a learning disability when he was a child. He is also passionate about working with children from structurally disadvantaged communities. He has served as a Freedom School summer counselor and as an ambassador in education with the Kettering Foundation.  And beyond his passion for education, Michael has a call to ministry, but he’s decided to be patient and wait for God to lead him in his call, in the meantime he is focused on teaching.

But little did he know that this experience would be an exercise in ministry.

He never stopped trying to reach me in my grief and when he realized that the Jesus catch phrases weren’t working, he adjusted his approach to one of being present, and being silent.

This is the making of a good minister….

So Mike was on his way. He flew to New Jersey, one-way, with plans to drive my car home on Sunday after the funeral. This was such a relief to mom and me. We were so thankful to have another family member there with us, and his offer to drive my car home lifted a huge burden.

After such a full week, mom and I were hoping to fly home to Cleveland on Sunday after the funeral. My Aunt Carole had arranged for first class tickets for our return, the only issue was my cat. How would we get Diva home to Cleveland?

Mom and Aunt Carole joked about hiring a car service to drive Diva from New Jersey to Cleveland, but clearly this was unrealistic. Before we knew that Michael was coming, we thought we would be making the seven hour drive to Cleveland ourselves; neither of us were looking forward to that.

Michael was truly a God Send.

So on that Friday, the plan was for us all to meet at my apartment in Trenton. After the viewing, mom and I went straight there and Felicia, Talithea and Michael were close behind.

It was so good to see him; it was good to see all of them. My experience at the funeral home had really shaken me up. It was one thing for Kesner to be dead, another for me to have found him dead, but a whole other thing to think that I would have to be in competition with another woman for him in death. Oh how I wished that Kesner was there to set all records straight and make it known that I was indisputably his woman.

But he wasn’t.

Kesner was still dead, and there was a picture of another woman in his casket. I was overwhelmed. Thank God for family and friends.

We all sat around my place and decompressed. Felicia went in my freezer and pulled out some wings to cook for Michael. We each had a glass of wine and mom and I shared our recent encounter at the funeral home.

Mike was planning to stay in my apartment for the weekend and as he unpacked his luggage, he realized that he left his dress shoes at home by accident. So after we all got caught up, Mom and Felicia went out to the mall to get Mike some dress shoes, and Talithea, Mike and I went out to Dinner. We decided to go to Joes crab shack.

On our way to dinner we heard from Jessie (Soul Friend). Jessie had just arrived back in town and she was checked in at the Trenton Marriott. She came to meet us at Joes. Kristen(Haystacks and Sisterhood) had also just arrived, so she came to Joes as well. And Andrea (Where in the World is Andrea Michelle?) had just arrived from New York and she took a cab over to Joes. And there we all were, gathered for dinner at Joes Crab Shack on a Friday night.

it was surreal.

Joes is such a happy place. On friday nights they dim their lights every 30 minutes and the servers dance to songs like YMCA under strobe lighting. People clap and cheer and sing.

All this was happening around us, it was odd. Here we were gathered for the worst possible circumstance and the wait staff was singing and dancing to YMCA.

It was strange.

I felt badly for our poor server, she was so chipper.   She had taken everyone’s order and was standing there waiting for me to decide what I wanted to eat. After a long moment of indecision, I said flatly: “sorry I’m taking so long, my boyfriend died last week and I found his dead body.” Her eyes got as big as golf balls. And immediately after I said it, I looked at my brother and we both bursted out laughing. She just stood there and looked at me in shock and horror; she couldn’t tell if I was being honest or making it up. Talithea apologized on my behalf, saying: “sorry, yes her boyfriend died and this is how we’re coping today….”

The whole dinner was just odd, and it was filled with a lot of nervous energy about what tomorrow – the funeral – would bring. But I could not help but be thankful. As I looked around the table, I realized that my friends were together representing the different stages of my life. My brother was there, from home and childhood. Kristen was there, my Spelman sister and New York City roommate. Andrea was there, my friend from Wall Street. And Jessie, my Soul Friend from Seminary.  And, of course, Talithea – my sister in Delta Sigma Theta. There we were, all together, sharing an awkward meal on the day before my man’s funeral. It was surreal, but I was thankful.

It was painful, but God was present.

After dinner we went back to the Marriott. I decided that I would stay at the Marriott in Jessie’s  room that night. Kristen and Andrea were sharing another room close by in the hotel. After we said goodnight to them, Jessie and I went for a walk outside and found a spot in the grass and sat.  I just needed some fresh air and to talk. I had been feeling so badly because Kesner and I had been arguing on our last night together. I needed to confess that to Jessie; I felt so guilty.

“If only I had known he was dying…”

Jessie responded by saying: “Maybe he needed you to argue with him; maybe Kesner needed you to treat him normally.”

Kesner knew that he was dying, I’m sure that he could feel his organs shutting down inside, but I didn’t know that.     ….and he obviously didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want people messing all over him, babying him or coddling him. He didn’t want to be a “sick person.” He wanted to die on his own terms; like a man. He wanted to be treated normally.

 “….and so you arguing with him, friend, made him feel normal,” Jessie assured.

That helped a lot. I had no idea he was going to die, and maybe that is what he needed from me. He needed me to treat him normally….

I don’t know.

But what I did know is that we needed to get out of the grass and get upstairs to get some rest. We had to get up early the next morning, tomorrow was the day of the funeral….

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

So this was all beginning to feel like one big build up.  It had been 8 days since I found Kesner dead and each day leading up to the funeral  was filled with some sort of meaningful thing.  Thursday was no different; this was the day of the tree planting ceremony.  Kesner’s brother had delivered ‘Hope’ (our apple tree) to Pete and Mara’s Country House.  We had also decided that we would build a ceremony around the replanting of Hope, this was a way that my church could be involved.

My church members all love me very much and I love them; they wanted to know what they could do, and this was it.  I knew that they would put together a beautiful ceremony and they did.  I only had two requests:  that Psalm 1 be included in the program and that Laura sing and play her guitar;

I would sing “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior.”

That song had been in my head all week, and now I wanted to sing it.  Initially I thought I might volunteer to sing it at the funeral, but mom and Kim didn’t think that was a good idea; so I would sing it at the tree planting ceremony instead.  Angie, another dear church friend, labored over putting the service together and she delivered the sermon.  and Mara arranged all of the onsite details.

The ceremony was in the late afternoon, so in the morning mom and I chose to occupy our time by getting massages.  A year prior I joined a massage club with the intent to get a massage once per month.  I had fallen behind a bit and ended up accumulating 4 massages on my account; this would be the perfect treat for my mom.  I used my credits and treated my mom to a two hour massage and I got one also.  After that we stopped at Whole Foods and got a new orchid for Mara; Klay had stripped the other one of its petals when he drew me a bubble bath the week prior…   And with the new orchid in toe, we were off to replant Hope.

in Hopewell.

In the car on the way to Mara’s mom got a call from her office.  Her office, so moved by what had happened, pulled their resources to buy me a star.  They registered a star with the star registry people and named the star Kesner Dufresne.  I almost had to pull over, I immediately started to cry.  What a beautiful thought, now I had a star….  and I was about to plant a tree.  Kesner would be with me, by day and by night – how beautiful.

When we arrived at Mara’s, I put on dark glasses and joined my fellow church members who were already gathered there. I didn’t want them to see my eyes, to see how different I looked; that new facial expression that I had.  I joined them at a small table on the fabulous country house patio and we had iced tea and nuts until it was time for the ceremony to begin.

Hope was placed in a perfect spot in Mara’s yard. There were several wooden chairs placed around her for the ceremony.  She looked so small in the sprawling green yard, but she was safe; my heart was content.  We gathered around her and I opened the ceremony by singing “Pass me not, o gentle savior.” Then we had prayer, some Scriptures, and then Angie gave her sermon.

It was so beautiful, Angie’s sermon; she talked about death being a change of frequency.  I liked the thought of thinking about Kesner as a different frequency; not completely gone.  still present, just a different kind of energy now;  I liked that.

Then Laura sang.  “Amazing Grace” and ‘The Serenity Prayer.’  and then I read the lyrics to me and Kesner’s song:  “Beautiful, Wonderful,” by Anthony Hamilton.  Kesner told me that was his song for me, and it made so much sense now.  I wondered what he was thinking about when he listened to those lyrics:

“If I erased all my footprints, could you find out where i went and meet me by the old fence for the day…. a love like ours was meant to be, a sudden change in frequency, beautiful you are to me…”

Wow.  It made perfect sense.  Not only had Kesner left me with amazing memories, and pictures; but I had a tree, a star and a song.

Most moving to me during the service was Andy, another church friend.  That day he sat in the circle around Hope and he wept.  He didn’t have to say a thing, his tears meant so much to me.

It was all really beautiful.  At the close of the service we each took turns picking up the small shovel that Mara had placed by the tree and we each scooped a small pile of dirt around Hope’s roots.  We were replanting Hope. Hope would be safe here.

in Hopewell.

On the way back to Qiyana’s, mom and I stopped to get some Chinese food when she got a text from Kesner’s brother: “family viewing of the body tomorrow at 5:30,”  and with that, a plan for friday was set.  We were finally inching towards the funeral.

That night before bed, I went for a walk alone around Qiyana’s complex.  I deviated from the walking trail and found a spot in the grass by a lake.  I sat in the grass and watched the fireflies put on a show in the dark trees, it was beautiful.  Then I looked up and I saw the brightest star in the sky, that was Kesner’s star.  The star registry people did send me a map so that I could find Kesner’s star, but i didn’t need it.  The brightest star in th sky would always be Kesner’s star to me.

I was not alone.  Kesner was with me.  I had two green angel silly bands on my wrist to prove it, Kesner was with me.

Tomorrow would be an interesting day.  I would have to go to the funeral home and see his body…  again.  And we were preparing to welcome people to town who were coming for the funeral on Saturday.  It would be an interesting few days, but I would be ok.  Kesner was with me, by day and by night.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Beautiful Wonderful” Lyrics by Anthony Hamilton – Me and Kesner’s song

If we walk this way
If we changed our pace
Will love remain the same… Forever?
If I erased all my footprints
Could you find out where I went?
And meet me by the old fence… for the day?

A love like ours was meant to be
A sudden change in frequency

Beautiful

We could sit by the pale moon
We could sing an old tune
Or I could tell you I love you
In different ways
I could ask you to marry me
Fall asleep and you’ll join me
We could dream for eternity and float away

A love like ours was meant to be
A sudden change in frequency
I welcome love with open arms

Beautiful – Beautiful, Oh Wonderful… Beautiful
Oh Beautiful – Oh Wonderful… oh Beautiful
You are to me
Oh Beautiful… Oh Wonderful… Oh Beautiful
You’re meant to be
You’re the air in my life girl, give me permission to breath
You’re the sight of my eyes girl, an Angel so heavenly
Take the walk of a lifetime… a chance to truly be free –
Let go

Oh Beautiful – Oh Wonderful… Oh Beautiful
You are to me
Oh Beautiful… Oh Wonderful… Oh Beautiful
You’re meant to be
Oh Beautiful… Oh Wonderful… Oh Beautiful
You are to me
Oh Wonderful… Oh Beautiful… Oh Wonderful
You’re meant to be
Wonderful… Beautiful

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Reflections: Tree of Hope
Angie’s Sermon…

INTRO

When we learned our pastor could not be with us this evening

I said “Yes” to the still quiet voice in my spirit

And offered to share my thoughts…..

It just seemed a way for me to comfort Kim,

who has become very dear to us at Montgomery Ministries

But promising to share was easy

Finding the thoughts and words was more difficult

After praying and pondering,

my thoughts and emotions were still racing around and back and forth

Questions raised to God …. And questions to myself,

Conflicting emotions of anger, love, sadness….confusion

And thank God….

Still grounded in Hope and Faith….

On Tuesday this week, I met with a small group of women that Kim is a part of

We have named this group: “In His Steps”

We pray, examine scripture and respond to questions

that help us discover a deeper part of ourselves

and we share with each other

We invite God to help us grow and become stronger in our faith

And more peaceful in our hearts and lives…

This Tuesday,

We decided to forgo the usual format

And just spend some time in quiet contemplation,

Quieting ourselves and centering

I had much difficulty closing out the thoughts about Kim who was not with us this Tuesday

Thoughts of Kim and Kesner and their Tree of HOPE kept coming back to me

And so I just accepted the thoughts and the thought pictures

That slowly flashed into my mind’s vision

Like a power point presentation…..

This is what came with the silent sliding of these pictures into my mind’s vision

THE CONTEMPLATION:

I saw the tree….

Young and eager to grow

I saw Kim and Kesner standing close together holding hands

And the Sun shining down on them

I saw their joy in their being together and the Hope flowing through them

And I saw the Hope embodied in the sap flowing through the young tree

The sap of Hope flowing from its roots to the tips of its branches

With their dreams and hopes for the future

I began to have an appreciation for this tree that had already been uprooted

Transported and transplanted from the tree nursery to this new site in Kesner’s backyard

This young tree carefully chosen and replanted, standing bravely in its nice wide hole

Nourished by enriched soil and well watered with a carefully dug little trench all around it.

Then the next picture came too quickly

darkened with heavy clouds moving in

A rush of wind coming closer through the nearby trees

The rumble of thunder and a flash of Lightning

And torrents of rain fell upon the scene….

Drenching all three…..Kim, Kesner and the Tree of Hope

Soaking them in its downpour of rain tears

After a time

The picture slowly faded out

and a new one gracefully slid into view….

I saw the warm sun quietly emerging from the clouds

Yet the rain continued and this time in gentle steady droplets

So gentle….. so in slow motion… so fragile…

It seemed like a wet veil,

with the sun glimmering through the tiny wet rain tears

A kind of quiet peace that invites one to just be within it

Allowing the rain to completely drench your clothes and skin and spirit

The next picture emerging gently in my mind:

Was a glimmering, VIBRATING rainbow of unimaginable hues and colors

These SHIMMERING glowing multi dimensional rainbow of colors

Moving in an out in its arched Rainbow of Hope

And along with the vibrating tremoring colors

Came a subtle fragrance of fresh rain and spring blossoms

And then

A soothing cheerful chorus: the chirping of little birds

As they began to shake off their wet feathers

And with many songs yet in heavenly harmony

Began to embrace the fresh new moments after the storm….

And then …..

the little chime on Gina’s watch brought me back to reality

Sitting in my chair,

hearing the cars and loud noises of the trucks on Rt 206 just outside our windows.

Shocked somewhat to be back in the reality of distracting traffic noise

And back to our people world of our everyday reality.

Yet I sat there in awe

still contemplating the pictures that had come

And I was grateful for the sense of peace that still lingered…

Thoughts: Hope …. Transplanting…..Transformation

I am hoping that this contemplation will remain as a part of

The Memories of this gathering

As we remember Kesner…. each of us in our own way

I am hoping that

We will also REMEMBER the HOPE

which God has placed in each of our hearts

This young tree has already been transplanted twice

Perhaps even three, possibly from a potted plant container

To a neat little row in the safety of the nursery

Then chosen by Kesner and Kim for its special spot in Kesner’s yard

And now to this beautiful site in Hopewell….

This tree does embrace its name of HOPE given to it by Kim and Kesner

This tree in spite of its uprootings will….like HOPE…

PERSEVERE …..spread out its young roots and ground itself firmly here

This tree will reach out its young branches towards the LIGHT

This tree of HOPE

will grow inch by inch with little leaves coming in the Spring

And tiny little blossoms budding into little balls of green in late Spring and Summer

And then into little apples slowing turning in color and in uniqueness of taste

This tree like its name HOPE

will grow and bear fruit and the first of these is Faith

We are all like this tree….

If we are rooted in the Hope and Faith in our Lord Jesus Christ

No matter how many storms and how many transplantings….

We will continue to grow in Hope and Faith and bear the fruit of God’s Purpose

Kesner like this tree named HOPE

is now in a New Transplanting and has a “New Frequency”

I see him in my soul spirit….

experiencing a joy and peace I can not even imagine….

and I believe that Kesner is NOW rejoicing in all the ways a spirit being can have joy…

I see Kesner in the Abundant Great Orchards of God’s Beloved Children

I see Kesner in his “New Frequency” with vibrant wholeness and peace and joy

And we are left, ….

We are left here in the life of NOW….

In our earthly realities…… filled with sadness and questions

Yet, we too

We too ….are in a new transplanting here in our earthly environment

We are grieving yes,

Yes, we are sad

Sad for Kim’s loss and for the loss of Kesner

Even though we had only met Kesner once

We at Montgomery Ministries felt we were coming to know him

Through Kim’s wonderful joy she shared as they discovered each other.

We learned that some Sunday mornings they read scripture and prayed together

What a blessing to pray with a dearly beloved one….

We learned they talked for hours and hours on the phone

And when they were together…

Because Kim so generously shared her joy

We shared her joy

And now we share her sorrow…..

And we sadly wonder why this has come to be….

Yet, even in this great sadness

We live…….secure in knowing that we are not alone

“I will not forsake you…”

“Lo I am with you always”….

We are left here to continue to grow and be nourished

We are purposed to be here still in this life we were born to

Yet there is a difference….

NOW….

Now…… we are in…. a new transplanting of Life

A transplanting WITHOUT the earthly presence of Kesner….

May we find comfort in the words of the prophet Isaiah

ISAIAH 40:28-31

“Do you not know?

Have you not heard?

The Lord is the Everlasting God

The Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired and weary

And his understanding no one can fathom

He gives strength to the weary

And He increases the power of the weak

Even youths grow tired and weary

And young men stumble and fall;

But those who HOPE in the Lord

Will renew their strength;

They soar on wings like eagles;

They run and not grow weary,

They will walk and not be faint.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

How do I talk about the incredible men of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Incorporated? Im not exactly sure how to capture in words the esteem in which I hold them. Oh how i wish this note had a soundtrack, it would definitely have “Pretty Boy Swag” on it….    and “Set it Off!”

My first orientation to the men of Kappa Alpha Psi was in college. My college roommate’s long time boyfriend was a Kappa at The University of Tennessee in Chattanooga. On more than one occasion a bunch of us would pile up in the car and make the three hour drive to Tennessee for a Kappa party. There was definitely something special about these guys, they had swagger. I remember how they would enter a party: cool, smooth and crisp, party walking onto the dance floor while set it off played in the background….       They were tall, and handsome, and distinguished, and…

memories.

At the time I was not a Delta. I’d wanted to be a member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. since I was a little girl. My mother and grandmother were members of the Sorority and so I expected that I would become a member in college.

That didn’t happen. I tried at Spelman College and I didn’t make the cut; that was traumatic. I felt like I’d failed the women who’d come before me. I decided to dismiss Black Greek sorority and fraternity life after that; this all made my mom very sad.

Soon I graduated and moved to New York City and within a year I became a Link. I thought this would make my mother happy; my grandmother was a Link, my mom is a Link and I was now a Link.

But my grandmother was a Delta, My mom is a Delta and I…         was still not a Delta.

“I don’t think you’re trying to connect with a local chapter,” Mom would say; she had encouraged me to reach out to the graduate chapters in each of the cities that I’d lived in after college. “You don’t want to be a Delta anymore, do you?” she said.

That wasn’t quite the case, it’s just that there was a scar there; I knew that if I were to pursue membership in Delta again, it would have to feel right. It would have to be the right place and the right time and the right chapter….     it would have to click.

I was getting ready to graduate from Princeton Seminary in 2008 when I met a nice undergraduate Delta Soror from Princeton University. I asked her who her graduate advisor was and she introduced me to a woman named Sandi B. Sandi B. was from the Trenton Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta and she sold me two tickets to a fundraising event. She also told me that she would keep my information and reach out to me if they were taking in new members in the future.

Sandi B. and I only met once, but she didn’t forget me.  A year later she reached out, it was time; it clicked.

I became a member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated on April 24, 2009. I was made by the Trenton Alumnae Chapter with 23 other amazing women.Our line was called 24 Karat Gold. I was number 22 and my nickname was Sunshine. Our process was special and our bond is special. I was meant for this line at this place in time.

The summer after we crossed over into the Sorority was the most fun. My social calendar in Trenton went from zero to hero and my line sisters and I must have supported every greek (and non greek) event in the city; there was always something…. and we showed up, party walking. We were happy to be new Deltas. I think we would have party walked in the grocery store if there had been enough of us.  And we got a lot of love from the other Greeks in the city; it all felt like one big welcome hug. We especially got a lot of love from the Kappas..

The Kappas in Trenton are an incredible group of guys and my associations with them have made Greek life whole for me. They are actively engaged in community service in the city and they sponsor great events. But more important than that, they demonstrate authentic brotherhood. They really appear to look out for each other, like real brothers do; it is refreshing to observe.

I found myself at Kappa events almost immediately after I crossed. And I was at one event in particular, the Kappa cookout, when I met Kesner. It was July 2009 and I had been seeing this guy since May, at different events here-and-there. The cookout would be the first time that we would have a conversation.

I arrived at the cookout over dressed. I am not sure why I was so dressed up but iI had on a black and orange floral print halter dress and 3 inch platform heels. I needed to sit down, I was doing too much.

I hadn’t been sitting very long before one of the brothers came over and told me that Kesner wanted to meet me. I  met him at a picnic table. We sat at the table and had a brief conversation that ended with us making plans to go to his church the following Sunday. I wasn’t interested at the time (I had a budding romance brewing with the guy in my building), but Kesner had invited me to church; can a minister really turn down church? I agreed to meet him the following Sunday in the vestibule.

What I didn’t know then was that our conversation was a result of an earlier chat that he had been having with his mentor and fraternity brother, Drew. (Who will here on be referred to as Drew/Angel). In prior conversation, Kesner had expressed to Drew/Angel that he was looking for a different type of woman, one with whom he could settle down. Drew/Angel told Kesner to make a list of 10 qualities that he was looking for. On the day of the cookout, when I sauntered in (all dressed up) Drew/Angel pulled Kesner aside and said: “You know the woman that you are looking for? There she is.” He was referring to me. Kesner said “How do you know?”Drew/Angel said he just knew.

… So the Kappas have been involved in me and Kesner’s story from the very beginning; and when Kesner died, they took it upon themselves to gather around me and my mom for a visitation.

When a loved one dies, it is a custom in the Black community to visit, bring food and sit with that person. Typically fraternities and sororities will organize a visitation if a member has lost a parent, spouse or a child. I say this because it is beyond the custom of protocol to officially gather around someone who is not a member, or the spouse of a member. I was “just” Kesner’s girlfriend, after all.

But the Trenton Kappas didn’t seem overly concerned about protocol; instead they just came in droves. They showed up; some who I knew and others who I was just meeting for the first time. It was as if Kesner had whispered in the ear of the Polemarch and said: ‘Take care of my woman.’ They knew that he loved me, so they showed me love; a great expression of brotherhood, even in death.

It was all that I could do to keep it together that night, we had the visitation on Wednesday night at Talithea’s house. My hair was done, I had on a little makeup, and I was wearing a simple tan dress and sandals. I sat in the corner of one of Talithea’s couches. I knew I couldn’t do too much talking or moving around or I might loose it. I didn’t want to expose the rawness of my pain, so I just sat still and worked really hard to keep it together.

I’m not sure how many guys came, there were so many. And a handful of my sorority sisters came also. Mostly people just socialized. I think it was pretty hard for everyone to talk about Kesner, it was all so painful. Nobody really talked about him to me except Drew/Angel. He came and sat by me on the couch. He reminded me of that day at the cookout, about how he’d pointed me out to Kesner. I didn’t cry while he was retelling me the story; it was hard, but I didn’t.

The remainder of the evening was spent watching everyone engage with my mom. My mom has a special ability to hold court; she can literally have a room of people enthralled in one of her stories. She’s funny, and she knows a lot about a lot; so I sat in my corner of the couch and watched her engage the crowd, making her convincing argument about why she didn’t think Lebron James would leave Cleveland.

One of the brothers leaned over to me and asked: “what does she do?” I just laughed. I was happy to share my mom with my community; I just wished it were not under these circumstances.

All in all it was a special night; we had a special evening visitation with the Kappas. They came with food, fellowship and Love, and I felt special. I felt the way that I know Kesner wanted me to feel. I was beginning to heal – a little bit. And I was clear that the gesture was not for me, it was all for Kesner. In his honor. because that’s what brothers do.

The Incredible men of Kappa Alpha Psi.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

I had lunch one Friday in December with a woman who’s husband fell 2,000 feet off of a cliff and died in his early 40’s.  He had gone out for a hike with a friend that morning and he never returned home to his wife and two small children.   Her  name is Elaine Pagels and she is a professor of religion at Princeton University.  After her husband died she decided to write a book about Satan; she wanted to talk about how Christians deal with adversity.

“We all need someone to blame”, she said.  “That helps us avoid feeling what we really feel which is absolute and utter powerlessness.”  Yes! – I thought.  That feeling overwhelmed me in the days after Kesner died.  That was the feeling that I felt when I was doing that crazy woman walk down the Princeton hiking trail.  helplessness.   This had happened – Kesner was dead –  and there was not a damn thing that I could do about it.  I didn’t blame satan, I blamed God.  I kept saying to my mom:

“I feel so humbled.  God has humbled me.”

It would normally be a bit of stretch to call Elaine my friend, except I think we crossed over into that threshold during our moment at lunch in December.  She invited me to dine with her at Prospect House on Princeton University’s campus.  It is a mansion that used to house the President.  Now it is reserved for faculty use and it has the most lovely dining room with windows that overlook a garden, and the university campus.  My only other encounter with this place was during my days as a Princeton Seminary student; I would pass by and wonder who eats in there.

And there I was with Elaine, at the best table in the room, crying the ugly cry.  Oprah says there are two types of cries:  a composed cry and “the ugly cry;”  typically you cant control the ugly cry and it usually involves snot.

I felt the ungly cry coming.  On my way to Prospect House on that Friday in December, I passed by the University Art Museum and I remembered a date that Kesner and I had there the previous spring.  This was post-falling in love, when everything was beautiful and all was well in our world.  We walked around, Kesner and I, appreciating the art and flirting with each other.  I might be looking at a piece and he would come up behind me and put his arms around my waist and kiss me on my neck.  I loved that.

Seeing the museum was a trigger; and almost as soon as I sat down with Elaine, I began to tear up.  “I’m feeling emotional today..” I said.   And sure enough, by the time my pumpkin soup arrived, I was deep into the ugly cry.

I kept apologizing, I mean we were in this formal dining room and I was crying this horrible cry.  She thanked me for crying; she said she was honored.  She even cried a little too.

She said that when her husband died she didn’t cry at all.  She was afraid that if she cried she wouldn’t be able to stop. So she held it all in her chest and she got pneumonia.

Even though I felt that my lunchtime cry might never end, we did manage to carve out a very rich conversation about God and Jesus and The Holy Spirit.  We also wove in our stories about our loves and listened intently to each other.   “You cant turn it off like a faucet,” she said, “your love for that person who died.  Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean that you stop loving them or that you don’t still feel like you’re in a relationship.”  she made me feel less crazy.

And it was an interesting thing that she was saying about blame, that blaming someone or something makes you feel powerful.  Or at least a little less powerless.

Theological conversation has always been like food for me; particularly meaningful since Kesner died.  Yet, in the immediate days after his death,  I avoided speaking to clergy like the plague.  I just couldn’t.  They all called , texted or reached out in some way: Rev moss jr, Rev moss III, Rev colvin, Rev miller…   and those who didn’t call reached out on facebook.  I just couldn’t talk to anyone who represented God, unless they were among the ministers that are in my circle of close friends.  I didn’t want to hear that ‘God has a plan’ and I definitely didn’t want to hear that ‘God is good.’  I didn’t think God was good, at least not my definition of good.

The only two that got through were Rev moss, jr and Rev colvin; this is because they called my moms phone.  My mother held the phone to my ear and made me talk to them.  I made sure to tell both of them how angry I was.  But as badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t escape God.  God was all over me, everywhere; with, and through, all of the Love that was around.  Holding me up.  And another thing began to happen, my old sermons began to preach to me.

I had experienced a wave of relatively frequent preaching a year  prior. As a result, I had an inventory of sermon topics stored in my head.  I even had the audacity to preach Job during that season.  what on earth did I know about life??  The title of my Job sermon was: ‘Do we serve God because God is Good, or do we serve God because God is God?’

Well damn, I thought.  I guess God doesn’t have to be good.  My old sermons would continue to preach to me as the summer went on.As I finished my lunch with Elaine on that Friday in December, she quoted Soren Kierkegaard, saying: “Life is lived forward and understood backward…”

Yes, I thought.  For sure.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011