Jboulware's blog

Tears

Tears on Pavement

Pain breeds growth dear friend.

Tears fell from our eyes

But not a moment too soon.

We love and live

And our tears fall.

Like the rain they tumble

watering our soil

breeding life renewed.

Tears.

Restoration.

Life.

In Memorium: Jewell Armentha Sneed Moss, Part I

Last week, I stumbled upon my elementary school portfolio. The small purple folder was far too inadequate for the amount of art and academic accolades that it’d acquired. While I referred to the purple folder as my portfolio, Grandma had a better usage for it, her “brag book.” I was the envy of all of the grandchildren in our neighborhood, because no one’s grandmother consistently spoke so fondly of them. This is no way a testament to my “greatness,” but a reflection of an investment of time.

 

Grandma an me 1

As soon as I arrived in Gary Indiana from Texas, it was my grandmother’s mission to begin molding my mind. Weekly, there was a UPS truck parked in front of our home. Old brown was quickly associated with happiness. While most would assume that those boxes were filled with toys, as they sometimes were, the cardboard packages mainly consisted of books. By the age of four, our home was filled with two large bookcases of encyclopedias and other fact books. I could not only tell you that the capitol of Djibouti was Djibouti, but I could also tell you that Arabic was spoken there in Arabic. Once again, this is no testament of my own intellect; but a reflection of an investment of time.

 

Every Saturday afternoon, Grandma and I would read a Childcraft encyclopedia from cover to cover. Saturday afternoons were meant for intellectual exploration. And sometimes I begged her to read the one hundred plus pages with me again. “Please Grandma, can we read it one more time. You take the first page, and I’ll read the next.” Of course, she always obliged.

 

People often say that grandchildren are the “second chance” children. You can do everything with them that you did not have time to do with the original set. But I’ve found that with Grandma, no matter the amount of time she focused into children, the return on that investment was always a mint. It appears that she had the “Midas touch.” You can see it in the lives of her children and grand children. You can see it in the eyes of her nieces and nephews. You can see it vibrantly in productive sectors of Gary.

 

And as time passed, the tables turned. I had to make the investment. And I say “had to” carefully. It was not a duty or an obligation that brought me home from college my sophomore year; it was a desire to help care for someone who’d spent my entire life ensuring that I would have a future. Knowledge is power. And I thank God that she will always be a part of it. Live, love, laugh, they say. Rejoice, reflect, remember, is what I say.

In Memorium: Gloria Diana Davis Boulware

Gloria

"Love—is anterior to Life—
Posterior—to Death—
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth." -Emily Dickinson

Amazingly, when Death visits one's spiritual household, he brings his not so distant cousin, Guilt with him. Guilt is a shrewd force. She wants you to become prey to her devices, her memories.

As a child, I was always told to remember the good times when someone passed. And I always found it difficult to recall those "good times." The memories that were nearest to me where the unkind words, mischievous pranks, and generally nasty things that I had done to the departed. I realize that this doesn't change with age.

Saturday morning, I received an e-mail from my father stating that his wife had succumbed to illness. Truthfully it was more shocking than sad. I did not personally know Gloria very well. When I was ten I met her during a field trip to Washington D.C. And last winter I spent my first holiday with my father. During those five days, I had an opportunity to get to know her, even under the blanket of negative remarks that preceded her. No fault of her own.

We deal with perceptions, and often see people through a convoluted frame. My largest regret is not being able to see Gloria for whom she was. While I am unable to write anything truly profound about Gloria, I can speak to the fact that the passage of time or seeming finality of death cannot kill a person's legacy. Even though I was unable to know Gloria, whatever kindness or love, or sensitivity or grace that she possessed will be reflected through those who are left to mourn her.

I pray that out of this my father and his children will learn to become a family. I pray that his new children will continue to be his family.

Love has always been a foreign concept to me. Obviously because of my tendency to over think the simplest concepts. But as the above quotation states, love is essentially in everything. It comes before us. It is here with us. And it is in place when we are no longer a physical placeholder.