Epilogue, and No Regrets

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I want to tell you a story-

imagine a neighborhood block-

where there was never any room barely

in crowded streets

 humanity  seemed fluidly  and chaotically merged and crushed one another;

the constant showering of voices in rhythm and in song immersed even the introvert

who simply wanted to huddle in a corner, surrounded by endless knowledge.

One such beauty seemed to weave in and out of each path,

headstrong,

 boisterous

with the knowledge of who she was and whom she belonged.

There was this freedom to explore and to be whom she was called to be,

never backing down from anything or anyone.

The freedom to remain in these global streets-

until twilight danced in endless skies and as any child, it would be time to come in

She still had the freedom to dance, to soak up the sun, to share her love of cooking and feeding others

So sometimes she did not recognize that her companions at the Table left, hearing their names called in hidden whispers

because the twilight she could not see, flickered in their eyes

and then one evening

the house that remained at the end of the block, of the street

The twilight that perhaps she had never bothered to pay attention to, suddenly poured over the horizon

and the House at the end of the Street glowed

and suddenly, clearly, musically 

her name was called

“Hazel! Time to come home!”

and like any child, she dug in her heels and frowned and refused

But then, from the warmth of the Light

those who had been at her table stepped into view, bathed by the Light

“Sister! Come on, we are waiting!”

“Hey Hazel! Come on!”

And she recognized them

and for one brief moment, she turned her head to the cacophony of voices and smells and drama and chaos and how she was needed to feed, and love

and then one loving Voice carried  over , whispering, cradling

Dearest, beloved child of mine…time to come in

time to come home

and she turned her head away from this world…

and my beloved Grandmother, matriarch to our rowdy, boisterous, strong Brown clan,

always central to any family gathering, always present

even in a hospice bed

on a Saturday evening

because we loved her so, bringing delight and family hilarity to her, so she would be a part of everything we held dear

breathed so deeply, as her spirit flew

closed her eyes to this world

and opened it to the eternal Twilight and Peace in the presence of the Creator. 

My Grandmother is gone

and even as who she was, was not there

just as always, family still gathered in that room

in that moment

There is sadness because I will not hear her call me Mae-Mae

or see those beautiful eyes once more

but I count myself blessed

because I had her for so long

thankful of this gift that the Creator gave to all of us.

Lape Bondye, God’s Peace.

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