Push play por favor.
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Well, if you hadn't noticed I've been off Blogger for a few. I lost someone very special to me last Sunday to Cancer. Not just your ordinary special either. If you're a faithful socialedisturbed reader, you should know that my views and opinions (when spoken) may cause an argument/debate/dis ownership LOL. Well this dude right here... NEVER! Not ONE time have we ever argued, stopped talking, caught attitudes with each other... NOTHING... EVER. That's HUGE in my book & if you really know me, then you should have the :o face right about now. He was the type of person that honestly didn't let shit get to him. Nobody had the power to get him angry. How? Seriously, how do you do that?
I remember sitting at the dining room table watching TV and all of a sudden he would SLAM his hand on the table... scarin' the living DAYLIGHTS outta me.. and he would just continue eating.. like nothing ever happened. Whatever he didn't put sugar on he definitely drowned in Tabasco! LOL! He was never a procrastinator.. shit.. his backyard is damn there REC. A pool, b-ball court, a gazebo all built by Papa. Man! If you guys think I have some weird ass stories/ experiences.. you ain't heard SHIT yet.. lol. He was good at story telling too. Like... he would tell a story and you could visualize everything as if you were there.
But here's what freaks me out.. I'm walking to my weekend job and this bum stops me. I could barely hear him 'cause I had my earphones on.. but I heard something about $.08 . So I pull one plug out and give him whatever's in my pocket. He goes "I said EIGHTY cents". I'm like OK... NOW YOU KNOW.. I woulda kept it moving.. but something told me not to get rude.. so while digging for more change I ask the guy (whose socks were WHITER THAN WHITE), how did you end up homeless? I always wanted to know. So he goes on to say how he was offered a job up here, he relocated, they took back the offer and he didn't want to go home. So here he is, in NY and homeless trying to better himself. Wow. So I gave him.... I'm guessing like $3 or $4 in coins. He then offers me the 3 boxes he had. I'm like nahhhhh I'm good, keep your stuff. He goes NO TAKE IT... lifts my arm and puts the three boxes under it. I look and they're window blinds! :o! Just what I needed! So I dig in my purse and pull out a $5.00 bill. He then says... "Sista, my name is Harold, and all I want you to do is pray for me". A more confused me just says OK and we go our separate ways. That day it rained. Got off the subway, missed my bus, and instead of me waiting 40 minutes for the next one, I took a cab. Everyone knows those Jamaican cabs DO NOT PLAY with their money. Cab guy pulls up to my building. I pull out the money, & guess what.... he tells me I don't have to pay... just pray for him.. :o! Now that's two different people, the SAME day, saying the SAME thing, pray. I bring my stuff upstairs and ended up going to a friends house 'til about 4 or 5 AM. I get home and doze off... didn't pray (SRY I LIED MA, BUT I DIDN'T). So I'm on the train and I get a whole bunch of random phone calls, and purposely ignore them. While on the train it hit me, I didn't pray, but I'm just thinking, ok.. I'll do it when I get home before I go to bed. Get off the Subway and get a text from my youngest brother " Yo Grandpa passed away". If that wasn't enough, I got the text RIGHT where I met Harold... no more than 5 feet from the EXACT spot. Weird right? I know it's not my fault that he's gone, but the fact that I didn't pray and where I was, and people telling me to pray, and the cab, and the eighty cents.... to this day it doesn't sit right with me. Maybe if I would've prayed, things would've been different. Who knows, I kinda just feel as though I could've/should've done more, & I didn't.
At the wake, the other brother decides to put all the Grandkids on blast. All the grandkids should come up and say one nice thing. I couldn't do it. Though I have an abundance of "nice things" to say, I couldn't get up there and speak. Shit, most of the time when I speak I'm crackin' or complainin' about something, and I just didn't have the strength to utter two nice words about him. Sad I know. I know.
I found this quote that reminded me of him:
"A good man is not a perfect man; a good man is an honest man, faithful, and unhesitatingly responsive to the voice of God in his life."
This might sound cliche, but I'm telling you, he honestly was a good guy, and yall KNOW how I feel about calling a dude a good dude... He was one. A good dude. A genuinely good dude. ::sigh:: Papa. Gone, but definitely not forgotten.
that potato salad!, her accent, & those infamous facial expressions will be missed dearly. she let me eat the last of the cereal. that's huge to me. the numerous life chats, the lectures, & jokes are forever embedded in my memory. 
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