You Are My Friend

I haven't posted in this space in quite a while. I'm here to share feelings about the death of a friend, HM.

This is just me writing through my emotions because I'm really in unfamiliar emotional territory. I found out the other day and I haven't been sad, just numb and unsure of how best to express my feelings. So I am here doing what I have done so often in place of talking it out with someone, which is to write to see if in that process I come to any resolutions or maybe find a little peace.

In high school, we had been great friends. Close. More than friends, but not in that way (almost though). But I've had a lot of weird, undefined just-friends (male) over the years. He was the first. We lost touch after I graduated and went away to college, but Facebook allowed us to reconnect some 20 years later. We may have been connected via email before social media. And for a time, we had that as a superficial means to stay in touch; however, he stopped using the platform so our interactions became the once a year kind--birthday postings from me, and maybe the occasional like of something I posted.

Even though we hadn't spoken directly in years, I thought of him recently in connection to the big High School Farewell celebrations that took place a month ago. A friend posted some pictures of him from the last school play he starred in, Hello Dolly, which was the year after I graduated. I never knew about this production, but I was away at college, making more just-friends. I had been meaning to discuss the play with the woman who posted the pictures, so I definitely will in the coming days. For whatever reason, I didn't even consider to message him because I assumed he no longer used the platform. And now I can't.

That is how we met, in a school play. When I met him he was a freshman and I was a sophomore, and the play was West Side Story. But now I can't remember which part he had. I wasn't in the play that year, but I helped out on the technical side. I don't even recall how we became friends, but we did. He went on to star in Dreamgirls, which is the play we performed my junior year. He stole the show as Jimmy Early, and then the following year as Conway Twitty in Bye, Bye Birdie. 

Even though we were just-friends, when he began dating one of my friends I got jealous. This was to be the first of many times I would repeat this pattern with a just-friend, but not always with me being jealous, but me feeling possessive and proprietary (because he was my friend first, bitch). I did it again with the next girlfriend...so maybe now I understand how we lost touch. 

I loved him though. At one point I thought it was more than platonic, but because I had other romantic interests, I moved on and there is another reason why we might have lost touch. Feelings complicate things, and adolescent feelings are by their nature complicated. And since he wasn't the only fish in the pond, I'm sure I was doing the most and unconsciously leaning into what I would call my that bitch Ayanna persona...and, whew was I ever! (I will need to explain her one day.)

One of those other romantic interests from my high school days passed away almost year ago and I had these same weird feelings of not knowing how to respond. We dated briefly and remained friendly, just not in constant contact. His Mom worked with mine and his sister went to Spelman (and we've interacted professionally through the years), but I only connected with him on Facebook. So when I learned of his death, I didn't really know how to describe our past friendship either. Yet, I cared about him and mourned his passing.

Such is the nature of friendship. It ebbs and flows like the tide. In the virtual space, we are connected, but unless we actually interact in some substantive real world way, then most of those people are just folks we know. Or folks we once knew enough to care about their present lives, even in a fleeting way. I care when I see updates, good and bad, from people that I used to know. For example, one acquaintance from high school is on a reality TV show, and having just spoken to her at that last tour of the school, I am actually tuning in to watch the show. Another just-friend from high school was tagged in some news that appears to warrant condolences, and I have been debating whether I should personally reach out, or just post a note on his page.

Even as I lament the hollow nature of friendship in virtual space, having that virtual connection meant that his sister saw that I had posted on his page back in January. And it meant enough to her to do me the courtesy of personally informing me of his passing. So to the extent that connections online can be tangible, I won't denounce them. Because in this same virtual world, I have renewed or established relationships. Some folks that I merely knew in passing once upon a time are real friends now. Perhaps it is the algorithm, but it has been a blessing in this phase of my life to find kindred spirits. It is hard to make friends, especially at this midlife phase of adulting that has all of us spinning in every direction. 

I wish I had been more attuned to the signs that the Spirit was sending me. HM had been on my mind, not heavily, but as a passing thought and in fond recollections. I thought of him as I toured the high school last month, in the familiar places that looked exactly as they had 30 years ago. I should have reached out, but I had assumed that it would have dissipated into cyberspace. Not because we had fallen out, but I figured that instead of documenting his life on Facebook, he was out living it. Now that he is gone, I do hope that his life was full. I hope that he knew how much he was loved, and how much he will be missed. 

I hope that I get a chance to let his sister know how much her brother meant to me all of those years ago. He befriended an awkward, insecure girl and inspired her to be her authentic self. He encouraged me to write, mostly poetry and he claimed to liked it. I am sure that if I dig through some stuff, I might find some of what I wrote back then and it might not be too brooding or cringey. 

So if I could tell him anything about my life now, it would be that I kept writing. And through that, I have found some measure of peace, past the regrets of having been that bitch Ayanna when we lost touch. It is a truism that people are in our lives for a season and a reason. True friendship doesn't end, it fades like a picture exposed to sunlight, but the outlines are still visible. Things happen as they are meant, and even if we weren't meant to be lifelong ride or die friends, his presence had a profound impact on my life. I have another reason to give to his (and now our) alma mater, in his memory. I can look back on high school and not be so bitter and angry. He was my friend, and I will be forever grateful for that.

Reconsidering Mother's Day

I actually wrote the piece referenced on Mother's Day for the BBW blog, but I am now going back to read/edit/publish a few outstanding pieces here at the Cafe. Bear with me.

I've been trying to gather my thoughts to write over at the Busy Black Woman blog about Mother's Day for a while, but I think that effort is futile. My emotions are a little too erratic for humor...so I am here to be raw and serious and to try to express my emotions in a more or less coherent manner.

Because I hate Mother's Day. I have probably admitted this previously, and maybe I will go back to see if I am right, but for now, I will let that declaration stand alone. I. Hate. Mother's. Day.

At some point, my mother made Mother's Day a test of how much anxiety could she force upon me by making me feel that I never loved her enough, or that I never demonstrated the right amount of gratitude. You see, before the Alzheimer's my mother was a pill--at times, a bitter, oblong, hard-to-swallow horse pill. In the years after my grandmother's death, and literally up to the year I revolted and determined that something was terribly wrong (when all of this was becoming a reality), she could be a...bitter ass pill.

I will not recount how bad, how bittersweet, how utterly insufferable this time of year could be for me--when nothing I did was good enough (but the nothing my Dad and brothers did was somehow, just fine). But I will say that even after spending my first Mother's Day last year with my in-laws, practically spoiled because the Babe was brand-new and this was the first time everyone was meeting her, I still dread this stupid holiday. Even though it felt good to be the quasi-center of attention for once. Of course, they were all excited about the Babe, a month old, but I have come to realize that a lot of my happiness nowadays comes from her.

All of that was written back in May. All of this below is new:
I survived Mother's Day by going to church, which has become a refuge for me. That is unbelievable because it was only a few years ago that I was declaring myself a proud member of Bedside Baptist. Life, man.

Someone at my church (and I will have to write about this at some point) has decided that they will find whatever opportunity possible to stand me up in front of that congregation. I was asked to give the welcome for Mother's Day, which meant a lot of preparation before and then a lot of rushing the morning of, but we made it! And several months later (because I was asked to give another presentation at church just yesterday and had to do the same thing) I am now getting it.

Public speaking was something that my mother did very well, but as usual, her stage mommy ways made it an uneven experience. As kids that grew up in the church with both grandmothers, an aunt and then later in Catholic school, we had plenty of opportunity to speak in front of church folks. Many of those experiences did not involve my mother, but her spirit was there because the Hawkins children never read from a slip of paper in front of an audience. The Hawkins children always memorized their scripts.

Did I tell you that my mother taught public speaking? And drama? Do you see where this might be going?

I will actually go in the opposite direction to say that she seemed pleased by my presentation. And that I am already thinking of how well-trained my daughter will be when she reached the age of standing in front of the church. Like mother...as they say.

Since the tone of this piece has changed from a whine to a tribute I must say that for all of her faults, my mother was right (just not about everything). I learned a lot from her example. I may never become a great public speaker, but if the people at my church think that I am a decent enough speaker, then it is because of her high expectations. This past Mother's Day, when I was just happy that we made it to church on time, I forgot to reflect on the reason why...

I hope I made her proud.

Two Hundred

I was working on another post, but then I realized that as this my 200th blog posting, I would rather it be able something significant, so I thought to celebrate this moment with a blog about my blogging :)  I started this endeavor in 2005.  I abandoned this effort in 2007.  I quasi-returned to it in 2008.  And I came back full tilt in 2010.  Now 200 postings later, I am very excited about the future!  And here is why:

1. I have learned a lot about myself in publishing my thoughts to the world.  I have a lot to say, but I have not only evolved in how I express myself, but I have become a lot more confident in how I present myself to the world when I am not blogging. 

2. I am more confident in my writing ability than my speaking ability, but that actually works in my favor.  I have discovered a strength that will be valuable to me for the rest of my life.  So what if I can never inspire people with a rousing speech--I can persuade through a well-written piece of prose.

3. My writing persona is authentic.  Not that I am fake in person, but I know that I am revealing the real me in my writing in a way that might not be as evident in person.  When I say something ironic or mean in my writing, I am intending to be ironic or mean. 

4. I want to take more chances.  I want to step outside of my comfort zone and have my writing reach more than just the people who happen upon this site or those who support me.  I have something to say, and I actually know what I am talking about most of the time.

5. This is my journey.  And for some time now, I have considered the opinions and perspectives of others (many quite well-meaning) in charting my course.  I am here by no accident, but because this is how the Lord intends for me to reach my destination.

I need to emphasize point #5 because some well-meaning people have been urging me to make different choices (i.e. get a job that would solve all of my financial and career issues) out of what they perceive tobe my best interest.  Lord knows, I could use some stability, but perhaps it is time to acknowledge that a job is not the only way to achieve that...

And here is what I really want to express--gratitude.  Gratitude to the Lord for revealing to me that everything in life has a meaning, even our stumbles.

I had an epiphany the other day so it had to be addressed in my 200th posting today.  I was imagining how different my life would have been if my career had not been so abruptly derailed.  I call it a derailment on purpose because in my mind, I was simply a passenger riding on a train when everything toppled over.  It began with the loss of a job, but my inability to sufficiently rebound into something comparable led to a detour that has taken me to many unexpected places.

Such as the courtroom.  I had tried litigation during an earlier bout with unemployment, and it had provided me with valuable experience and the ability to be adaptable.  Although I have tended to regard my little practice as insignificant, recently a former client tried to offer me a referral.  To her, the work I had done on her case was significant. 

Another unexpected place was the classroom.  Everyone in my family has become a teacher, and I often joked that at the beginning of each semester that education was the family business and that I was late in joining the franchise.  And truly, I have found the classroom to be a great fit, even as I found certain aspects of the profession to be exhausting and under-appreciated.

I am coming to terms with the prospect that I might never have biological children.  There was a time when I figured that having a baby would help to give my life purpose, but for whatever reason that has not happened.  And it caused me a lot of anxiety because everyone else in my demographic was having children.  It only added to my insecurities about the loss of my job as some massive sign that I was perpetuating a fraud on the world.  But plenty of wonderful people have never had biological children, and if I am meant to raise a child some day, I am fine if that blessing occurs because someone else cannot.

I have been broker than broke.  My savings are meager and my debts are massive.  But I keep pressing forward and have learned the value of frugality.  We have learned to live within our means and that has kept us afloat.  And I cannot help but to think that we are reaping what we have sown--service to others has supplied our needs. 

And finally, I look upon my marriage as a major silver lining in a cloud of despair.  God willing, we will celebrate 10 years in October and I feel so magnificently blessed.  Not because I think marriage is better than being single, but I believe that my marriage has been better for me than being single would have been.

So I am celebrating 200 blogs at the Cafe and hope to build on it with so much more in the future!  Ciao :)

Housecleaning

Well, this topic is timely today for a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that my house is still a mess and still too dangerous for my Baby Niece.  I need to baby-proof, but I also just need to clean so that it is also no longer dangerous for me.

Second, I had been making a few tweaks to the other blog and thought that I might try the same thing here--add a few widgets here and there so that people could find this place.  As it turns out, this template is really old, so a few of the updates might not be possible, but I will figure it out eventually.  In the meantime, I also went back through a few of the postings to see if I had gotten rid of all the old uncompleted drafts.

And I found an unexpected surprise...I had readers!  I would not declare it a dedicated following, but there were people who actually read and enjoyed my work.  And not all of it was random spam...

So, as I find myself exploring ways to drive traffic to the other site, I am encourged because there was a time that without much effort on my part, people found me and liked me, warts and all (meaning, they understood my bouts of depression and were not totally turned off by my cynicism).  And while I do not plan to count any chickens before they hatch, I am encouraged that a few more folks are also reading this blog again.

Well, in case I never said it before, I am so very thankful to everyone who ever read anything I ever wrote here.  In some cases, I completely missed your positive comments, but I thank you just the same for taking the time to post.  In other cases, we lost touch, and that is probably because I did a little too much navel-gazing at times.  I plan to reconnect if I can.  Thank you because in some of my darkest times, writing kept me sane and my hope is that it will always provide me with that solace.