A Time To Weep....

In the late 70's, I attended a dance given by NOBLE (National Organization of Blacks in Law Enforcement) where I met a man with a beautiful smile, a swagalicious walk, a sense of style, and a gracious manner.  "Zing Went the Strings of My Heart" is so appropriate. I fell head-over-heels when I saw him walk through the door of the ballroom.  He was from Philly, employed by DEA, and in town for NOBLE's convention. It was the start of a long-distance relationship.

In the very beginning, my son and I would cry when he left. Over the years, trips to the airports, watching his car pull away, would prompt tears. A fatalistic feeling of not being able to see him again. Recently, he told me that he cried when he left after his last visit. I responded that I cried often when he left. The image of him walking away from me, as I locked the door,  brings me to my knees. It is burned into my brain. 

He shared that his cancer had returned but kept the severity of his condition hidden. He was adamant that I shouldn't visit until he was stronger and able to walk.  "You know that I have no problem pushing you in a wheelchair," was my response. When I learned that he was bedridden, a friend and I flew up to see him. Yesterday, September 18, 2019, I received the dreaded news that my best friend, my rock, my soulmate, had received his wings.

We heard a song at the last dance we attended which became a joke for us: Mr, Sexy Man, because it reminded us of how we met. So, Mr. Sexy Man, until we meet again....

Sunrise: August 9, 1935

Sunset:  September 18, 2019