When I learned that you were dying, it broke me. Now you're gone and I still don't know how to deal. I don't know how to deal with the fact that we’ll no longer be able to go to your house for the holidays; that I'll no longer get to have your super soft hugs.
I didn't ever really expect you to leave. It was hard to imagine you gone because you were always so vibrant and beautiful; you hardly ever looked like your health struggle. I hate crying in public places but I remember, on more than one occasion, not being able to control myself while sobbing over coffee on campus. That moment was a precedent to the grief I'd feel both in and out of college. A part of me was kind of dreading going home for the holidays, only because I knew it would remind me that you're not here, triggering all the pain I've felt for the past few months. I knew it wouldn’t be the same. But I know you, and if you were still here I think your advice would be along the lines of Cece Winans' lyrics in "Don't Cry."
Don’t cry for me / Don’t shed a tear / The time I shared with you will always be / And when I’m gone, still carry on / Don’t cry for me
If you were here to advise me, you would want me to give the love you would always provide. You’d want me to be a giver, not necessarily in a financial way (although you did like doing that, too), but of my time and talent— of my heart, as you did, by letting people know they're remembered and thought about. You would want me to show love. You would want me to connect and not retreat; to remember that I have a family who loves me, a family who is also suffering. A family I can comfort with my presence of mutual grief and desired resilience. You would remind me to honor God, which you've shown can be done through love, giving, and faithfulness. You would want me to walk in forgiveness and understanding when I'm hurt.
That's who you were, a walking embodiment of love, strength, and giving. A counselor to many, you were a giver in every way. You're the reason why I’ve mentored so many girls. You were there to gather our lives when we needed it but always with the best of intentions. You found a way to be carefree even though life unfairly burdened you. I'll try to make a conscious effort not to give in to the numbness of grieving you. I'll take my time when I need it, but also be with others. I will play with my cousins. I will laugh. I will hug. I'll send love to others who are grieving. I will listen to the stories and traces of wisdom that remind me of you. I will put my phone down. I will always cry for you. But I won't only cry, I will give in remembrance of you.
And maybe that's how I can carry your legacy, through love and giving. That's how I'll keep your light shining in my heart.
Written in loving memory of Earnestine Peterson Gee. Love you, Nana.