Indulgent Reminiscence VII

‘Grammy’
 
I fight the tears back as I pen these words, this morning I got the news that I have feared these many days. On Wednesday around 6 pm my grandmother had a stroke and has been unconscious ever since, it looks like this might be the end. My family has enjoyed many years without the cold touch of death’s impartial hand, and now the matriarch lies motionless, and we see him coming from afar off against the low flat horizon of our memories. I feel the pain of her impending absence, but I wonder if I shouldn’t feel it more, its a numb throbbing in my chest like a deep muscle bruise, that doesn’t bring my day to a screeching halt, that doesn’t send my life spiraling out of control – that doesn’t give me nightmares.
 
She was.
 
My grandmother; Lillian Knowles (people called her Lilly for short) was a strong black woman from that age of struggling alone without the benefit of a man to complete the home. Ten children, seven girls and three boys, and only her hand to drive the plough that fed their mouths. My earliest remembrance of her was in the living room of her tiny house on WulffRoad withit’s tin roof that sounded like a stadium full of cheering people when it rained. I held my first basketball there, it belonged to my Uncle Frederick, and she laughed as I fought to get it off the floor withmy toddler hands. I remember spending days there, it seemed like such a magical place, and many years later when I revisited this old haunt of mine I marveled at how very small it was. It was made big with her love in her own stern way. I remembered her getting up for work at the crack of dawn and waiting at the street near the hand pump for the LyfordCay bus that swooped her up and took her to the Western side of the island where the rich folks lived behind gates that only permitted people of her color to enter if they made the beds. She cleaned and scrubbed on her hands and knees – ah yes, here come the tears – for people who most likely viewed her as a lower species, and she didn’t utter a word of protest but served wonderfully for more than twenty years as a maid in a luxury hotel cleaning suites 3 times the size of her whole house. At the end of her tenure there they honored her witha retirement ceremony, and she beamed withpride as they presented her with two gold pins depicting the Lyford Cay crest that she promptly gave to her firstborn grandson wrapped in tissue paper. They were the only lingering symbol of her toils, and I could not know their significance at that age, and so I didn’t lock them away as I should – they were lost in the tempest of my adolescent irresponsibility. I’m ashamed to admit it.
 
She moved to a bigger apartment on Morris Avenue, a stone-throw from her previous residence, and even closer to Columbus Primary School where I spent my first years of education. And so sometimes when she was off from work she would come out to busy Wulff Road and hail to me as I played on the field during lunch. I never told anybody how she would buy ice cream cones from the general store nearby and hand them to me over the cement wall in the shade of the huge Lignum Vitae tree, driving my young colleagues to the kind of envy that got a young boy hurt. They would clamor for a taste, and she would yell out “NO! don’t share” (I blush at it now), and I would listen because her words were law in my eyes and, going against my own, nature I would eat it all alone. Once I paid mightily for this treason at the hands of the biggest boy in school who grabbed me by my shirt collar and pushed me to the ground, he got on top of me and was about to “fist me up” when he was suddenly jerked away. I opened my eyes and looked around, the cheering had become an eerie silence, and there was my Grammy pounding the little boy shouting out profanities I cannot permit myself to repeat, she handed me twenty-five cents for another ice cream cone and then disappeared over the wall again. That boy never touched me again.
 
She was stern with us when we were younger too. Her house may as well had been the Smithsonian museum, we were allowed to touch absolutely nothing. It was torture. Here house was filled with so many interesting things, figurines of little white angels to play superman with, synthetic bouquets of flowers to pass around at our staged weddings, and the crowning glory of Morris Avenue – a balcony that overlooked the flat landscape of the neighborhood. Standing out there always made me feel like the knave of some ancient castle, there to protect the constituents from the carnage of “Big Belly George” a local fat man who ate little children – thus the big belly. She would sit at the door to the balcony porch that ran from one end of the two-story structure to the other end, and watch me create worlds of fantasy in my little head. She would rub alcohol on her legs; she suffered from some kind of condition that caused them to be inflamed, and she would constantly remind us as we slithered past her “watch out for my toes”. The years of hard labor had dealt unmercifully with her lower extremities and I won’t tell you of the blisters and bunions I tried all I could do to avoid stepping on.
 
In Grammy’slater years she turned back to the word of Yahweh. I remember the great change that came over her. That fiery nature seemed to find solace in the “better way” that Paul spoke of in Corinthians. I think it was Annex Baptist Church that she attended religiously and we would have discussions of faith and scripture as she looked at me crookedly whenever I said “Yahweh”. She stopped doing other things too, no more Colt 45’s in the middle of the day, and it seemed Yahshuaentered earnestly and tenderly and completely recomposed Lillian’s nature. She developed a love for her grandchildren that had not been as apparent to the others as it was to me. I always felt weird about her open preference to me (even though she called me Arlington most of the time), we had a lot in common, and held conversations about truththat put her insight on display and allowed me to see into the soul past the exterior hardened with past disappointments, as I fear others never had the opportunity.
 
When I took off for New York she called me to her side and whispered in my ear. “You’re a good boy,” she said, and I could feel her trembling hand grasp my arm, “and the Lord will protect and keep you because you are his special son.” She had my little sister write out Pslams 91…’He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Alimighty’. I still have that scripture that scribbled on a church convention flyer. It turns out it was prophecy.
 
I love you Lillian Knowles and I know you love me. I thank Yahweh for the strength you’ve exhibited with a life that showed you refused to quit though the odds were stacked against you. You’ve raised beautiful children with families of their own, and I look back and wonder – how did you do it? I gave you your flowers as best I could when you were alive; I kissed those cheeks and held those hands, and exchanged words that warmed my heart. You have grandchildren who have families of their own, and children with eyes that twinkle as ours did at the sound of your voice. Was I as good to you as I could have been Grammy? You have been so good to me, sacrificing your whole life so that we could have some kind of future, and never once considering it unfairness, but embracing the task of a Black Woman with Child. 
 
Marc Wellington
 
Dedicated to the memory of my beautiful and wonderful grandmother; Lillian Knowles who taught me that struggle and pain were not an excuse to quit. She taught me that Yahshua can change the life of anybody if you open the door. She taught me that when I take on a task I should try to do as good a job as possible. She taught me never to share an Ice cream cone (smile). May Yahweh richly bless you Grammy as he pulls you to his bosom, I look forward to seeing you again, at which time you’ll have brand new toes.
 
Scripture of The Day
 
Psalm 91:9-11 (King James Version)
 
Because thou hast made Yahweh, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
 
Tonight is the 28th day in the month Nissan in the year 5768. The Sabbath Candle Lighting Time is 7:35 pm EST. The sun sets at 7:48pm EST.
 
p.s. I humbly ask for prayer for my grandmother who’s appointment with her Creator is within the next 48 hours. Have a blessed Sabbath everybody.