Whenever I receive emails from my sister that begin and end with "call me as soon as you get this", I feel uneasy and nervous. My father's favorite cousin and perhaps closest relative, Aunty Grace died. We wanted Dad to find out in person, and not over the phone. Fortunately in this situation he is not a computer person in any way so he would not stumble upon the news on a Facebook page or email. It was decided that I should be the one to tell him after dinner.
Aunty Grace is a joyful person. She and Uncle Tommy always treated me well, welcoming me when I visited their jewelry shop downtown. I liked to visit them. Years later at my wedding, my family dressed well and in suits and dresses. Aunty Grace had a good time, in a slick Mickey Mouse t-shirt. Her casual delightful approach also bailed out our friend Larry, who dressed in red bandana, tshirt and in his best gypsy-pirate attire. With Aunty Ann, Aunty Grace put the Mardi Gras Beads that were on every table -on their heads. Years later when Dexter was born, she showed up, unannounced at our front door with a gift and a red talking dragon. Usually we would only see her at funeral services where she and my father would gravitate to each other, take solace and comfort in the presence of the other, and later at a banquet, share memories and laughter. Her laugh was big and could lift you up, out of your sorrow. At some point in every one of these events, Aunty Grace would pull me aside and tell me in her gentle but strong way to look after my father.
Her loss would crush my father. And at 4:30 in the afternoon as I was preparing to gather my belongings, finish the work day and take the long bus ride to my Dad's, Maria called to let me know that Dad had gotten a phone call with the news. Perhaps a resistance to receive the news but also the weakness in hearing words from a phone, Dad could not understand what he was being told. And it was Dexter who had to translate and speak the words. Not the way we
planned it and the last way we would have chosen this path to be walked.
And yet, in his caring way Dexter was able to do this and stand tall for his grandfather, his parents, his family and himself. Dexter is in tune with the feelings of others, and we feel great pride in the person that he is. If he does not carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, if he understands that there will be pain and suffering beyond his capacity to heal,
Dext will be alright in his life. When he is thinking of himself, the young man has a tendency to drown in his drama -such drama! Interacting with others he senses the hurt and pain of people around him, and is quick to offer help. He does not like being alone, a deep fear and I know not where this seed was born. I do know that on a cold Tuesday afternoon, my father might have fallen but Dexter, as he does for me on a daily basis, lifted him up.
My father is standing, saddened but accepting. In the morning he still walks in a crooked path to the picture of my mother and in a silent whisper, kisses her face.
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