I feel that death has been lurking about me for the past couple of weeks. Not like the hooded Death character on "Family Guy". More like the specter of death.
Last week, my godsister, Mamie Williams, passed. I cried but not so much for her passing as the realization that yet another chapter was finished. Another golden thread knitted tightly into my patchwork childhood closed.
I didn't call her Mamie. But Mother Williams. She was one of our beloved church mothers, and when she closed her eyes for the last time, she had lived to see great-grandkids. I wrote on Facebook to my friend Mary:
I know she's with the Lord... and she was actually older than my grandma! Her mom was a respected and loved church mother at my parents church. When my mom had me, she fell in love... and my parents made the unusual choice of naming an octogenarian one of my godparents. She passed when I was 11. She was so very sweet. I still have a teddy bear and a set of dolls she gave me as a baby. So, yes, my godsister passed. But she was in her 80s. A great-grandmother. She lived a life of faith and family (and music!). So I feel sadness for us, because we don't have her, but not for her. She is with God!
As the week passed, like everyone else with a computer, television, radio, phone, cell, or a telegraph, I was inundated by the wall to wall Whitney coverage. It reminded me of when MJ passed. I wrote a post about her. Just scroll back a few days ago.
Pretty much any and every side of this story has been dissected. No, it bypassed dissected by Tuesday. It was diced and shredded. There really isn't anything left to say. Her funeral was this morning. She's been buried now.
I didn't watch, but I know from others' reactions, that it was quite a service. Made me think of how LL opened the Grammy's on Sunday with a prayer in Whitney's memory to our "Heavenly Father". Now it's Saturday and millions got a front seat at a Baptist church in Newark, NJ, where they were reminded that nothing, not even death can separate us from His Love. God has a way of getting His message across, huh?
Pastor Clemmie McIntyre
It's another death that has me feeling some kind of way. My friends' Aimee and Clem's mommy passed this morning. Her name was Clemmie. She had a southern accent even though she lived here in Jersey for decades. She was a pastor and had a doctorate in theology. And she was beautiful.
Aimee and Clem and I are all about the same age. We grew up going to the same churches and the same schools. Mrs. McIntyre's passing has me feeling dissected.
Aimee's heartbreaking posts on Facebook made me think of that Dylan Thomas poem about raging against the dying light. The son is begging his father not to go. Keep fighting. Mrs. McIntyre fought valiantly against cancer. Aimee described her mother as her "heartbeat". Part of her has stopped.
We cannot stop our setting sun. That "good night" will envelop us all one day. Rage. Hiss. Spit. Embrace. Acquiesce. Deny. The light fades.
But one glad morning...
Rest in peace.