Sometimes I'd like to think that I've been through he most difficult times in my life. But then I think about how people say that God never gives you anything that you can't bear. If this is true, which I know in my heart it is. I haven't seen shit yet. I've always been one to never buckle under pressure. I pride myself on it. I'm strong...But for some reason I let little things bother me, and I take the big things and can handle them extremely well.
The first time I've dealt with death was when my father died, June 19, 1988. I was six years old. He was murdered. Until recently I just saw how I dealt with that...I ate. But when you're six years old, what else do you do? That next summer, I was molested for a year straight by my next-door neighbor...That's when I started to write. When I was 13, or what I refer to has a date, January 29, 1996, my grandmother was murdered, by my cousin. That's another blog within it self. But I've dealt with a lot young...Which I guess is some of the reason for my maturity...
Tuesday, January 4, 2005 started out as the best day of my young career. One of my dreams would soon come true. I received a call from Hue-man Bookstore in Harlem, New York offering its support of my book and confirming a book signing that spring. In addition, I scheduled a meeting with a major printing house that wants to offer me a contract and I was booked on a network TV show. Ecstatic that my hard work was paying off, I began planning my book party!
This fulfilled day was affirmation that I am on my way. However, later that evening my aunt called. She asked to speak to my mom. It was around 7 p.m. I went into the living room to watch the Real World, just to see what Karamo was doing. Half way into it, something came over me that completely diverted my attention. I shut off the TV and I immediately started to pray.
I knew something wasn't right. I arose and went into my mother's room to find her crying. My instinct told me something was wrong, before I even knew what it was. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "You're not ready for what I am about to say." She told me to sit down. I persisted in questioning her, demanding an answer; however she wouldn't reply. The finally she said, "Tuesday." My world had stopped. I've experienced losing a family member before, but this time it was different.
Tuesday was my Sister. She was my favorite family member. Tuesday was the most gentle, humble, angelic, happy, strongest person I had ever met. I was her son before she had kids. She was the biggest supporter of my creative drive. She always inspired me to be who I was and always told me to do me. She always told me not to let anyone stop me from achieving my dreams. She inspired me to press forth, no matter what anyone else said. How could this happen on such a perfect day? Why did it have to be one of the closest people to me? She was the person that I could talk to and she always knew where I was coming from. Tuesday was the person who I could call and gossip with about all the family drama and she wouldn't tell anyone! Why would this happen on a Tuesday, her name? I thought, who was I going to call now? What about her husband and three kids?
It didn't hit me until I went into my room and looked at the photos of her children in a frame on my oak bookshelf. I didn't cry until I saw a picture of her and my uncle DuWayne together at my Jr. High School graduation. I didn't sob until I thought about the times she always talked me through what I thought were the roughest times in my life. I didn't yell and shout out my hurt until I thought about how much she loved reading my newspaper articles when I was in college; she was one of the few people in my family to exert genuine happiness in reading my work. She always wanted me to pursue my dreams because she chose her family instead. I was a mess. I cried so hard. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I just laid on the floor in my closet with the door closed and fell asleep. I woke up the next morning unable to open my eyes because they had swollen from my night of crying. It took a warm towel to relieve the puffiness. My first best friend was gone. Let me tell you, when it rains, it pours!
The funeral was that Saturday and we flew to Utah. I got back home and tried to regroup, but Tuesday was visiting me in my dreams every night. I still had a day job, so getting to work on time began to be a problem. On top of Tuesday's death, I was also dealing with another family revelation, dealing with vendors and my book, keeping my finances right my life began to take its toll on me. I had one of those jobs where if you are late six times you're fired and a bereavement policy is nonexistent. Needless to say, I got fired, but got my job back, only to get fired again.
I am grateful for my Tuesday. I have nothing but good memories of her. Although I haven't fully grasped and accepted the fact she is not physically here anymore, she is here. She is here every time I write, she is here every time I think, I look at her picture, I think of her lessons. She is here in my heart. I remember we talked about her disease, Sickle Cell Anemia. I know how she wanted to put together a documentary. So I've started that project along with the "Every Day is Tuesday" Scholarship foundation, that I'll be launching this fall. It will benefit High School Seniors-College Seniors with Tuition & Book Scholarships...I have to do it because this is one of the things Tuesday wanted to do.
I am grateful for my life, every second of it. Through all of the drama, hurt, and pain, I have become the strong person that I am today. I am living proof that you can go through the storm and come out like the phoenix. On the brink of success, your faith, strength, adaptability, and courage is put to the test. God never ever gives us anything we can't bear. I will survive this storm and all the ones ahead...GOD, thank you for loaning Tuesday to me for 34 years...I truly appreciate your gift, and your blessing!