If ever there was a post I did not want to write, this is it. A little after midnight – April 6, I was thinking of Michelle. In truth she was on my mind all of the previous week. I said to my self that I would check her FB page to see if she was on. I felt blind sided. Stunned, I read and re-read the RIP messages, finally seeking clarification from a mutual friend. All he could say to me “it’s so tragic”. I just cried… and cried and sat up in my bed in stunned silence with the tears running down my face. Finally, in the morning, I got through to Carter her husband and he told me what had happened.
I was numb for the rest of the day. I could not put one foot in front of the other without much effort. My mind could not absorb the fact that she is gone. She won’t hear the RIP messages, but I understand. I already miss the late night phone calls – there weren’t that many, but she always knew she could call me at anytime to talk about anything. I already miss the greeting “what a gwaan.com ” as only she could have delivered it. I miss the giggles like school girls over some weird joke that only we will ever understand. I miss our times of talking about God and what He means to us. I never knew if she actually made the plunge (so to speak) and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Saviour and that was what bothered me the most. I went before the Lord and asked Him. I was comforted by His answer.
My favorite memory of her was when she came to visit me at my home in St Catherine. She spent the day with me and we watched movies and cooked. We giggled like idiots over the movie Chicago, watched and re-watched it until the DVD got really hot. We just enjoyed each other’s company.
As a teacher of the Word, I still do not understand the ways of God or His thoughts. They are too deep for me but I try anyway. I felt as if I was in a boxing ring with an opponent and someone else came into the ring and gave me a severe blow to my body. I can barely imagine the pain that her husband is feeling. With real pain in my heart, I remember him saying to me – “Sylvia, she is all I had”
This reminds me of something my mother told me once. She was sitting at the upper balcony of her house when she heard a voice command her to “Get up from there!” She had no sooner gotten up and gone into the passageway, when a thunder ball passed through the balcony, right where she was sitting, exited through to the other side of the balcony and burnt a straight line through the hillside. In my crying out to God that night, I asked Him “why did you not tell me to get up?” I was not angry at Him or anything like that, I was just perplexed. I was in church that night with my granddaughter. She was crying too. I asked her why and she said she was crying because I was crying. (Sweet child, all she could hear from me that day was just groaning and crying). I asked her why since it was not the first time she had seen me cry. She told me that it is the first time she had ever seen me unhappy.
I am still numb. I try not to think about her but how can I not? Like a cruel tormentor, I keep seeing something that reminds me of her and that I will not see her again on this earth. I feel like a big hole has been sucked out of me – that place in my heart that she occupied. No more little jokes to cheer me up during the rough times. She instinctively knew when to call. She rarely complained – I loved that about her. When she was pained – she would call, never really mention what was bothering her but just ask me to pray. She told me once that she looked forward to my posts because they always seemed to speak to her situation.
Word fail me now, I cannot seem to find the right words to describe her effervescence, her kindness, her genuineness. There are not enough words to explain or express the trauma, I feel at her passing. But I thank God for the Holy Spirit – my Comforter. I pray for Carter and all her other friends that they would allow Him to draw them close so that He too can comfort them. I know and expect that with the passing of time, she will not be erased from our memories, but the pain of her memory will lessen and only the sweetness of the memory of her will remain. When I am called home, when I have fulfilled my purpose on this earth, as I cross that border between life and death, when I enter the through the gates of Heaven, I expect to see that big smile and hear that laughter and the very dry “What a gwaan.com?”
Sylvia M Dallas
Poet, Author, Photographer and Teacher of the Word and CEO and Director of Creator Services at The Publisher's Notebook Limited based in Jamaica. She is married to Rohan Dallas, is a proud grandmother, loves coffee (Jamaican, of course), loves great tasting and healthy food, love to cook and is an unabashed follower of Jesus Christ. Her books AND THE PRISONERS HEARD THEM, THE RIGHT KIND OF INTIMACY and THE BED DEFILED are available on Amazon.