I initially sat down to write this two weeks after Mommy Dee, my maternal grandmother, passed away. Two weeks turned into a month and a month turned into four. As I get older, I find myself finding different coping mechanisms to deal with life’s challenges. Writing has become a catharsis for me, but the words don’t come out with any regularity. Just like grief, it’s not a step by step process; sometimes it just pours out at once, sometimes it trickles out.

The funniest realization I had through this process, is that compared to most people, I’ve been extremely blessed. This isn’t the first and unfortunately won’t be the last grandparent that I will lose. When I was brought into this world, I was blessed to have both parents, all four grandparents, and four great-grandparents. I even had an opportunity to live with one, Ida. She was known as “Chicken” for the very serious reason you might have guessed, she liked chicken. Since I only knew her briefly as a child, I’m just beginning to understand the magnitude of who she was. Born in Louisiana in 1905, she lived through the roller coaster of the 20th century black experience. Unfortunately, all I have left are the childish memories like when I was mad at her for giving my older cousin $10 and me $15 for our birthdays. 

Ida’s passing was my first experience losing a family member. When it happened, I was a bit lost, especially as I didn’t get the chance to attend her funeral. I’ve reflected on this the last few months and it has become clear how I’ve continued in this way. At 23, I didn’t attend my grandfather’s funeral, which hurts more today than it did then. But at 32, I’d rather address it head on. Enough avoidance! These days, we’re living, feeling the things, laughing when shit ain’t funny, and crying even when it’s all going well. Instead, I’m going to share a few words for those who may go through something similar. 

We are who we are and it is what it is

In all seriousness, if I’ve learned anything returning to my childhood home to mourn with my mother, it is what it is. People are going to be who they are. Insert other cliche. During this process, my mom was still the anxious, but relentless, focused, and emotional force that she has always been. I was still the empathetic and calm, but methodical, and at times, impatient person I was as a child.

Leading up to the day of my grandmother’s passing, my mother was under the impression that she wouldn’t cry. This was not the case. Death can often be such a slow, painful process, unlike the movies. At some point this year, my grandmother lost her appetite or refused to eat, depending on who you ask. This led to a slow descent with a final destination at a hospice house. Withering away and descending to what I assume was dementia, Mommy Dee was clear as day when I said “You might get better” and she responded “No, I’m not” before falling asleep.

If my mom had it her way, she wouldn’t have cried when we went to the funeral home either. I thought she felt this way as she had already mourned while managing her mother’s decline. After viewing her body and handling funeral logistics, we headed to my mom’s favorite restaurant, Longhorn Steakhouse, to have a meal and decompress from a long day. When we sat down, I asked her about some positive memories they shared to get her mind off the tragedy of the last six months. She was silent for 30 seconds, and responded “I don’t have any”. Well shit, now I understand why she would hold back her tears. It’s in these moments that I’ve truly appreciated anyone who called, prayed, or helped her through this time. Moments like this are the hardest part of being the man of the house, as in that moment, all I wanted to do was cry.

But like so many moments of life, a sad, depressing moment is replaced by a moment of ridiculous joy, laughter, or other surprising emotions. In 2024, your mom having a different ringtone for everyone is one of the most enjoyable experiences. 10/10 would recommend! Matter of fact, go ahead and give different ringtones for the people you care about. Over the course of the day, I heard anything from Bruno Mars to Soulja Boy. I’m sure you’re just as curious as I was…what is my ringtone? It was “Let’s Hear It For the Boy” by Deniece Williams. Shoutout to the goddess herself who is a staple in our home with the ballad, “Free.” When I asked my Mom why “Let’s Hear It For the Boy,” her answer summed up to something like “idk boy mom”. I think you’ll agree if you listen to the lyrics.

Fortunately, mine was not the funniest. The most hilarious, embarrassing song I heard was “No Pain No Gain,” by Betty Wright, a song I hope no woman would ever associate with me. Needless to say, I asked her reasoning and it equated to “fuck boy”. You see, even the 60-year-olds have their fuck boys!

Naturally, I then thought of a list of songs I would hate for someone to set as my ringtone. Here are my top 3:

• No Scrubs by TLC
• He Wasn’t Man Enough by Toni Braxton
• Any Song by Glorilla

The most intimate moment I felt through this process was while going through my grandmother’s clothes. For a long time, I cared about how I dressed but never thought of them as individual pieces to capture my life, almost like a picture. As I ran my fingers through her blazers, jeans, skirts, and blouses, I felt the wear in each garment. Each piece had its own story, the blazer that was not conservative enough for the workplace or church and so it rarely was worn; the favorite garments that had a ring around the neck and light stains around the armpits and wrists. When we die, the only things we leave behind are our memory and our things. I never thought about the things; nor the way I could still feel connected to her through them.

Rest in peace Delores Clardy better known as Mommy Dee, the movie buff, the technician, the mother, the autodidact, the follower of Christ, and the woman who loved on me more than her own.