Despite all, I did manage to ask her for some tickets to January's show since I wasn't doing too well financially. She said yeah (actually she shook her head yes) but I knew I'd just have to wait and see. It was November; by January a busy lady like The Boss who meets loads and loads of people on a daily basis would probably forget all about me.
So anyway back to the point. I got my book signed, it's now around six-ish and I've been out all day. While on my train ride home I can put her skills to the test. I'm anxious to see what she's talking about in this book. As I'm reading, I realize that none of her poems are written in a poetic form with a buch of scenery and metaphors - they just get to the point. Her poems make the reader feel like she was talking directly to them and she's just a deep sista. It's pretty good for someone who has never really been into poetry and never had the desire to write it. I rated it a 7 which is pretty damn good for someone who went into writing poetry blind. The issues that she talked about in her poetry were on point ; however I like the short stories the best.
I found comfort and sadness in what has come to be my favorite short story in the book. For almost exactly 3 years, I have been unable to let go and release my feelings about the dealth of my Nana. The story of Grandma Thelma (who coincidentally passed in her eighties like Nan did) is the story of the beginning of my healing. The closer I got to reaching home, the more I read about Grandma Thelma and the bigger the lump in my throat became. I was trying not to give in to bawling on the train because had I done so, the people around me would've thought I was having a nervous break down (besides it was too cold to be crying on the L train because once the doors would've opened a brisk wind would have come in and froze the tears on my face. What would I have done then?!) I Needed to let it out though, because one of my biggest problems is probably the lack of tears I shed.
Anyway, let me tell you about Grandma Thelma. She was portrayed beautifully by her granddaughter. Some things about she and my Nana were very similar. Both Grandma Thelma and Nana were both beautiful inside and out, though they were ill they both prefered to live alone and take care of themselves, and they were both strong willed and stubborn. I also think Grandma T liked to cook as did Nana. They both had a thing about anyone saying that certain foods were nasty. Straight up and down Grannie T wasn't having it: she didn't allow anyone to get away with saying it (althogh Tionna did) and Nan; whenever someone didn't like the taste of something she'd always say. "You don't know what's good." It used to get to me when I was little. I guess I'd be thinking "how she gone make someone believe that their taste buds don't know what they're talkin' bout!" So I guess only Nan knew what was good and my tastebuds were manipulating my mind into believing that I didn't.
On December 22, 1996, I walked into the hospital room and there layed Nan still, just too still in fact. I could't believe this. She had to be breathing. The sad part about it was that she wasn't. I felt like my whole life had deteriorated right before my eyes. Til this day I wonder how I'm sane, but you know what? There's a man upstairs who watches over me and gives me strength to endure what seems impossible. I was numb all the way home. I'm starting to relive the feeling all over again by recalling the moment. I blacked out on the way home, and I didn't realize it until I came to. When I did come to everyone who was around me before I blacked out was gone and so was the bus that was approaching (that I intended on boarding to go home). That moment was so weird. I never saw the bus pull up and although I blacked out I never collapsed.
Everytime I think about this stiuation I always say to myself, had I been there a little sooner and witnessed her die I would have spazed out and never been the same again. I still think getting there when I did was the worst thing ever. I usually say that there's always someone out there in worst situations than the ones I'm in howver, in this situation, I could not bring myself to believe that anyone could have been through anything worse. I probably didn't want to believe that anyone would ever feel or go through the agony that my heart had been subjected to. . .
