Joy & Pain in the November Rain

I was out and about getting ready not only for singing "Oh Happy Day" in church this Sunday, but also preparing for Thanksgiving. A memory came to me when I received a text message from the local PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) chapter asking me why don't I dedicate that song to my late mother, who passed 34 years ago this coming Sunday (November 24)? So I thought about it a while. I may do that. However, I was reminded of a moment that rocked my core when I was in my third year at college. 

During this month back in 1991, my step-cousin was days away from getting hitched to his girlfriend. I was thrilled for him, even though to this very day I have no plans on doing the same thing. I was also part of a group of students that weekly attended this C.O.G.I.C near downtown New Orleans. I got to meet the pastor and his wife, and they got to know me and the other students that worshiped there as well. That pastor, who these days is now a bishop, looked a bit like me in some sorts. He was a bit pudgy and light-skinned, standing just about my height (5'7''), a balding hairline with a faintly recognizable mustache and glasses. His wife, purely cocoa-skinned, was similar to his physique, aside from the facial hair, of course. I can tell you those two were inseparatable.

However, in the fall semester of that year, she hadn't been feeling as well. She was missing a lot of services, which the now-bishop performed the sermons alone. One Sunday, she spoke to the congregation via speakerphone. I could tell by the sound and tone of her voice she wasn't going to last much longer. On the week of my step-cousin's wedding, I noticed some of my friends gathering by the flagpole, considered to be the center of the college grounds. They were somber, hugging one another as if a friend had passed on. I asked Monique, who was with those friends at the flagpole what's going on. She told me the pastor's wife had passed on. I was sad to hear of the news. To pay my respect, I wanted to attend one of the services to her. 

Tuesday afternoon, a few days after my step-cousin's happy wedding to Nischelle, I went with two of my friends to attend the pastor's wife's funeral. These folks must have known some big wigs in town, for the funeral was held in the New Orleans Municipal Auditorium, right next to Armstrong Park. Many people came to pay their respects to her. Now it was time to personally say goodbye to this person. I walk by her lifeless body-WHOA!! I almost did a double-take looking at her. She reminded me of someone I knew that looked just like her. It was as if I was staring down at...MOM??!! OMG!!

During my mother's funeral in 1979, I was proving myself to be strong. I did not shed any tears in public in front of anybody there or at the reception. At the tender age of 9, my life wasn't going to be the same. I kept those tears inside until weeks later in silence.  Now, 12 years later, the true feeling of losing someone had finally began to hit me where it hurt the most-inside of me.

Moments after that double take, I was walking toward the exit when I began to get teary-eyed. Like my mom's funeral, I kept them inside, fighting them off like a football coach afraid to admit defeat.  Back and forth, my emotions were at odds. Then, 10 minutes later, my mind just told me, "let it go." I asked one of my friends to just hold me in her arms...and I let it out. My tear ducts were overflowing with a lot of tears coming out. This may have been the first moment I have actually cried in broad daylight over losing someone special.

My friend Judy told me that this moment may have been a coincidence in regards to losing my mom. My dad was no help in this matter. All he basically did was show me how angry he can get when I got into mischief. I might not show my emotions like I did that day in November 1991; it is human to cry at times. But I somehow always keep showing my shell at times of personal sadness.

Case in point of my grandmother's funeral during the spring of 1995. The whole family was in rural Mississippi attending it.  My cousins were all shedding tears all around me. Even my dad showed a softer side that day. Me? Half of me was attempting to prevent the tears from flowing, while the other was trying to keep my cold in check, let alone keeping my nose from constantly running! Juanita, a friend I got to meet during Be-All weekend in Chicago 2010, told me all I had to do to be happy with myself was to "get out of my shell". This is seemingly so easy to do, yet it's so hard to change.