When the world is gray and bleak Baby don't you cry I will give you every bit of love that is in my heart I will bake it up… into a simple little pie
Baby don't you cry gonna make a pie Gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle Baby don’t be blue
Gonna make for you Gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle Gonna be a pie from the heaven above Gonna be filled with strawberry love
Baby don’t you cry Gonna make a pie Hold you forever in the middle of my heart.
Baby heres the sun Baby heres the sky Baby I’m the light and I’m your shelter Baby you are mine I could freeze the time
Keep you in my kitchen with me forever Gonna be a pie from the heaven above Gonna be filled with strawberry love Baby don’t you cry Gonna make a pie Hold you forever in the middle of my heart. Gonna bake a pie from the heaven above Gonna be filled with butterscotch love Gonna be a pie from the heaven above Gonna be filled with banana cream love Baby don’t you cry Gonna make a pie
Hold you forever Hold you forever in the middle of my heart by Quincy Coleman
This morning, before heading into work, I uploaded all of my brother's mp3s to my walkman from his computer. Two things have been my unofficial therapy these past few weeks - his music and my writing. In his defense, and I am sure he would want me to mention this, he has plenty of Jay Z, reggae - current and old school hip hop, pop and alternative in his collection BUT it's the other stuff that really is sending me through a loop. He has gone and gotten himself all iconic in death - sending me these messages from heaven in his song choices (I am aware of just how crazy those 10 words sound). Have I mentioned that his last status update on Facebook was "Sleepy... very sleepy."? That was his status Monday Oct 19 and he left us on the 22nd. Anyway, I am at my desk and this Prince song plays, Under the Cherry Moon - no doubt from the movie of the same name. Here are the lyrics:
How can I stand 2 stay where I am? Poor butterfly who don't understand Why can't I fly away in a special sky? If I don't find my destiny soon, I'll die in your arms under the cherry moon
I want to live life to the ultimate high Maybe I'll die young like heroes die Maybe I'll kiss u some wild special way If nobody kills me or thrills me soon, I'll die in your arms under the cherry moon If that's alright
Lovers like us dear are born 2 die If they don't find us what will we do? I guess we'll make love under the cherry moon
What do you think? Maybe we just look for deeper meaning in everything when a loved one leaves us. My family and I saw a rainbow in the sky on our way home from the funeral in the limo. It hadn't rained but there it was, clear as day, a rainbow pouring out of a flawless sky, beneath a beam of sunlight. Maybe it was God telling us everything was okay. Maybe it was Tommy telling us he was still with us. Maybe it was just a rainbow on a beautiful day. I don't know. I find myself talking out loud to him sometimes. Begging him to haunt me and promising I won't be scared. I even wrote on his facebook page the other day - fantasizing that he was behind me peering over my shoulder or maybe he was at some wireless cafe in heaven checking his facebook page. lol. Then I hear his music and wonder if he is speaking to me - or maybe I am just hoping that he is speaking to me. I don't know. Either way, my big brother and I are going to have a long talk about all this creepy subtext when I see him again... I won't even discuss the plethora of Alice Cooper songs....
Grief is lonely.
The pain rests solely within the chambers of your heart.
The sorrow spreads like leukemia through your blood.
Your thick fleshy skin is your pain's most fearful capture.
No hug, nor tear, nor quiet word will pour its poison from your veins.
Grief is angry.
It asks questions that noone can answer.
Demands logic absent reason.
Curses faith and divinity and those well-meaning individuals who are vehicles for their cliched messages.
Grief is selfish.
It consumes every morsel of your thoughts.
Lurks in your dreams, creeps into your nightmares
Fogs your mind to other people's useless, fictional, daily pain convincing you that yours is all that matters because if others could really fall within its depth...
and feel the hell you felt...
the world would have stopped with your loved one's last breath.
Grief births insanity.
It rewrites a story that has already been told.
Waits at doors that will be forever closed.
Reaches out into the darkness for arms that one can never again hold.
Grief is inevitable.
A sudden stop on a peaceful walk.
An unforseen consequence of a well written plot.
Reminding us that there has to be a reason to rise and take your daily steps,
Other than a foolish expectation that you will actually breathe your next breath.
On Wednesday, I was in New York and Isaiah looked around and said, "Mommy... Where's Unca Tommy?" It wasn't the first time but I still felt caught off guard. Sensing my pause as a challenge, my tiny boy answered his own question. "Unca Tommy in Brooklyn." he said with a nod. That's what he was taught to say, because that's where Tommy usually was. The first time he said it, I filmed it on my cell phone and sent it to my whole family. Tommy was especially proud that despite the fact that we moved out of New York, Isaiah remembered their special bond. I paused and said, "No, baby. Uncle Tommy is in heaven." Isaiah nodded and sauntered off, to make more baby discoveries in Grandma's house.
I cried a little and looked around. Wondering if Tommy heard and was proud of his nephew. Hoping that perhaps Tommy knew that although he was no longer with us, his beautiful bond with his nephew remained. I hope it forever does.
Perhaps I should have more to say. I really wish I did. Three weeks later, it makes even less sense and I miss my brother. We all do. But here is what continues to make us smile... everyday...
Tommy's nephews....
Isaiah Xavier
And a video of our star and President of the "Cheer Mommy Up" club...
Scream for cookies at wakes. Dance at funerals. Jump on the bed you've chosen to stay in until the pain stops. Bring their teddy bears to kiss you when you're crying. Sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star at the top of their lungs during very emotional moments. Pick the flowers by the casket and hand them out to the teary family. Smile and wave at pictures of your loved one when everyone else is crying. Insist on hearing Good Night Moon, two more times when you are EXHAUSTED (maybe that's just my two year old).
You know, just generally refuse to allow you to be sad.
I have seen each and everyone of my family members laugh at something Isaiah did these past few difficult weeks. In fact, my mom laughed out loud this week when she stayed with me when Isaiah kissed her face and said, "Bye Mommy (to me), Bye Daddy (to my husband) going to Grandma's house." My nephew, who is one, had the same affect - Screaming for the phone (his favorite toy) when I was making difficult calls to notify people of the news, putting his little face up for a kiss when you had decided to just feel the pain for a bit...
Children are a constant reminder that life goes on. Tommy loved his nephews and he loved the innocence of being a kid. When I wake up in the morning and consider staying in bed, I remember how much Tommy looked forward to them being happy children - playing pretend, driving those little kid four wheelers, watching Disney movies, playing with action figures - those wonderful moments unique to childhood. Then I remember - simply, my grief may change my life forever, but I don't want it to change their lives. Mommy loves you. pickle and Auntie loves you, X. Below is a video of Isaiah dancing to I Like to Move it (his favorite song) in the kitchen this morning while I was making breakfast):
One of the hardest things I did following my brother's passing was go with my Dad and brother to pick up his Mustang from the police station. We all broke down. My brother's Mustang was such a big part of him. He took a great deal of pride in cleaning it and driving it around New York. Seeing it without him in it, getting in without him freaking out that I was touching it felt unreal. After a couple of days of sitting in my mothers drive way without his TLC, this past Saturday, I took the car to get washed and waxed. On the way there, I decided to hit eject and see if there was a CD inside his CD player. Of course, being the musical guy he was, there was a burned CD in the player. The CD was phenomenal. I thought leave it to my brother to leave such poetry playing in his cd player. It felt like a love letter or just a soundtrack for remembering him. It had some Michael Jackson, Prince, George Michael, Bee Jees, Mariah Carey, Barry White, Janet Jackson, James Brown - just as eclectic as I would have expected from my brother. And it wasn't necessarily big hits - it was B-side songs. You know, those songs that play on the Album that you are glad aren't ever released as singles? Those songs that you feel so deeply that they must have been created to the rhythm of your heartbeat. He even had this song by Jayson Belt called "Just You and Me" which I like to call the Sam and Jason song. Sam and Jason are these two characters on General Hospital - yes, my brother and I both watched the show. Anyway, every time they show Sam and Jason being intimate - they play the song. When I heard it at Number 10 on the CD it brought tears to my eyes. I thought - "Tommy, you are such loser." And then I thought - I love this song too. I laughed and cried and then hit the accelerator and took off the way he would. So fast, it made my heart skip a beat.
Anyway - as I am driving this Annie Lenox song comes on that I had never heard. I have since discovered it is called "Cold". It was beautiful, mournful, soulful - just what you'd expect from Ms. Lenox. It had this line - "Dying is easy, it's living that scares me to death." Through my tears, with the open road expanding before me (as open as it can be on the Belt Parkway through Queens), I suddenly envied my brother. I thought - he would never feel this pain. He would never cry these tears. He would never have to say goodbye to someone he loved because he was the first to go. Understand me now - I am thankful for my life. It's just, for so long my family and I have been untouched by death and tragedy. We had each other and our love is great. We are close. We talk everyday either to each other or through each other. Never did I think the last time I saw my brother that it would actually be our last time together. His death was shocking - so much so that it felt purposeful and deliberate. It was clearly God's plan. But, I thought, as the first to go, he never had to mourn us, he isn't afraid anymore, he, and I can confidently say this, is with GOD and thus, with us. I cry tears for so many things these past few weeks -for myself, him, for the loss, for my mom, my dad, my older brother, Marc, my son and nephew who will never know their uncle. - Sometimes, I cry just because I want to sit with him and watch him eat a Klondike bar or drink a cup of grape kool-aid like when we were kids (Or suck a kool-aid ice cube he used to make and infuriate my mom lol). Sometimes I can taste the bitter sweet taste of the hot dogs and beans he would almost ALWAYS make me as a lunch when he was baby sitting. (Marc - you were the cheese sandwiches remember?). I can still picture him bringing me milk when I woke up from a nightmare. I miss him so much that I can't swallow sometimes. I looked forward to what our relationship would be as real grown ups (cause lets face it - in your twenties and even thirties, you sometimes still feel like a kid). Anyway, the song touched me - cause I thought - living with out him is the hardest thing to face... so hard to face. And in death, he most certainly doesn't feel this pain. So - here is Annie Lenox singing her song - I realize that some people read from fbook and won't get this link - if you can visit the original post (www.thencameisaiah.com).
I wasn't really sure when or if I was going to write on this blog again. But this morning, I was inspired by my big brother Marc's honest and courageous post on his blog (http://www.marcsoniadream.blogspot.com/). On October 22, 2009, my big brother Tommy passed away. It sounds odd saying passed away because it doesn't really embody the shock, pain and unexpected nature of his passing. Passed away, to me, draws images of someone old - lying in a bed, surrounded by loved ones. Passing away usually follows a long illness with death as a foreseeable consequence. Passed away paints a picture of acceptance.
No. Passed away doesn't fit at all.
Two weeks before he left us, I was sitting across from him in IHOP eating breakfast at noon. Three days before he left us we were chatting on the phone about my car trouble and sending text messages about family gossip and television shows. We thought he had a cold but it turned out to be pneumonia that spread too quickly and too fast and claimed my strong brothers life. On October 22, I watched my brother take his last breath and with it went any delusion that I may have had that life - my life and those of the people I love are anything but temporary.
My brother was an NYPD Detective, he was a strong, intelligent, imaginative, sensitive, funny and an amazing man. He was my protector and as he used to say - my twin born ten years earlier. We shared the same blood and flesh. We had many of the same mannerisms and good or bad my brother was never a stranger to me. I understand why he did the things he did, why he said the things he did and I loved him for it all. There were few things in my life that I was prouder of than being Tommy and Marc's kid sister. I knew that if I needed him I wouldn't have to ask and he would be there to protect me. There are so many things in this world that are scary and my brother made me feel safe and protected. He made me feel loved and valued. Between my two brothers, I never questioned my worth as a woman or how I should expect to be treated by men.
My brother was funny. He would observe and didn't say much - but he could deliver a one liner with a smirk that would make me laugh even thinking about it days later. My brother was a true individual. While other 80s babies were learning the latest hip hop dance, my brother was belting out songs by Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Prince and George Michael. He was a romantic - who loved the idea of falling in love. He had a candle in his kitchen that he was saving to light the day he got married - even though he wasn't even engaged. He was a conspiracy theorist, he believed in things you couldn't see, he could get lost in a video game, comic book or sci fi flick and talk about them as if all of the characters were real. He was an explorer. He would take rides in his Mustang just to see a waterfall or a unobstructed view of a full moon. He loved his family. He was looking forward to his nephews being old enough to take to Disney world. He couldn't wait to be the cool uncle that got his nephews the coolest toys and latest games. I was surprised every time I saw Tommy with Isaiah at just how much they took each other, at how affectionate he was. They even shared the same dimple. I would give anything to hear my brothers voice again, see him play with my son, or just watch a movie with him in my moms living room as we did every time I came to New York for a visit. I took him for granted. I imagined us all old together - playing each other in old video games, fighting over who my mom would live with. Waking up everyday in a world that he isn't a part of just doesn't feel right. Ever since my mother called me Wednesday to tell me he was in the hospital, I feel like I have been sleep walking in a nightmare. I know that I will wake up soon and the life I am living will be the same temporary life that it was before he left us - but I know this gaping hole in my heart will never close. I do promise to honor my brother and remember his funny jokes, his spirit and make sure my son and nephew know their uncle. As much as I want him back, I find comfort in knowing that when I die, I will see my brother again and hopefully, he will be waiting for me to take me for a ride in his Mustang through the clouds. I love you, Tommy and I will miss you with every breath until we meet again.
Gonna bake a pie from the heaven above
Xavier
