When I was younger, I went in between my mom and dad’s house. My dad went from various apartments until he settled down in Needville with my second mom. The one apartment I loved, which surprisingly wasn’t the one with the stairs I got to go down, was the one that was closest to my Godmother. I don’t know when I was baptized. And I wasn’t sure how she was my “aunt” but she somehow was always there. She was always Godmama. Heck, in my phone that’s just what it says. But that’s off topic.
I would get to go to my dad’s every other weekend and I’d love walking across the parking lot to see my Godmother. I would joke about when her man was coming (he was a cop and worked different shifts). We would get up early and set up to watch the parade. She’d take me to Golden Corral where she’d let me eat an entire plate of gummy bears without a so much as a laugh. You crazy girl. That’s what she’d always say.
I even remember thinking it was so cool that she worked at the old original courthouse. That she knew so much. Wow, that’s my Godmama.
As life progressed, I didn’t talk to my dad as much as I could’ve. Hell, I didn’t stay in contact with a lot of my family members. That didn’t change the love that I had, I just needed to heal my soul. Find my way. Find my path. Yet there she was. Always. A random text to cute little Christmas bags. It was the red lipstick and the Louis Vuitton. Her heart was so big and she was so charismatic. She didn’t deserve to get sick. She didn’t deserve the pain she was forced to deal with. She was supposed to be always.
The crying at night has lessened, but the pain is still too real. A simple text that I’d see her soon, turned into standing outside her house gasping for air. She left behind so many. She had built a legacy, she was the glue that held so many families together.
On her first heavenly birthday, I got the text that we’d be going to her cemetery spot and releasing balloons. But instead I laid in bed and cried. I didn’t want to pretend that everything was okay, knowing that it is because she’s finally free, but to me it hadn’t set in. I don’t know when it will. Maybe when I go out and buy those cheesy Christmas earrings that she wore so well. Maybe when I go to Louisiana and gamble like we did for my birthday. There’s so many maybe’s and what if’s. I could go on. But I won’t. I’ll sit here quietly and continue to pray for everyone. God gained an angel, but we lost a piece of us. A dynasty of a person. I love you Godmama. I’ll be sure the next poker night to take everyone’s quarters for you.