Good night, Go to Sleep, I Will See You in the Morning...

In February 28, 1980, my father passed away, leaving my mother, my brother, and me by ourselves. We were used to Dad taking care of of everything for us. In essence, he was our total provider. All that we knew, loved, and respected was now gone, but we didn't lose a beat because of all the things he put in place just in case he was not there with us. The provisions he made for us would last many years to come. In fact, thirty- four years has come and gone and the provisions he made for us are still going strong to this day.

On the night of his death, that evening he came home from the doctor's office, he was quiet and not really saying too much of anything. He came home helping my mother with the things she needed to complete. No one really thought about it too much back then, because it was his normal way of doing things. Reflecting back on it now, he must have been consumed by the thought of not making through the night. For the doctor wanted to admit him into the hospital and put a pacemaker in his chest right away. My dad did not want anything to do with that. He just wanted to come home and spend time with his wife and two boys. He did not mention it because he did not want to upset us. He wanted to  be with his family. His family meant the world to him.

He made choices that brought him to this place, and brought him to this expected time, the end of life. In my mother he found the perfect mate, a life long friend, not just a partner. He made the choice to move from the larger city to the smaller town because he did not want his sons to deal with the snares of city life. He made the choice to build his own house. He felt that he could leave his wife and sons his legacy in the form of a brick home. He also made the choice to get into the church. He made many if those choices with his wife, my mother. The choices that he made would encompass his family. He made those choices for his family.

He sat at the dining room table counting loose change. Suddenly his hands went to his chest, his eyes rolled back in his head. He went straight to the floor. My mother screamed out, "Not now Lord." I ran to him to resuscitate him as I had learned in school. My brother ran down the street to my relatives home. Chest compressions, I began to count off... I breathed in to his mouth and covering his nose. Within minutes my Uncle Wilbert and cousin Billy arrived and took over. Minutes later the paramedics arrived and was carting my father to the hospital, my mother riding along with them. My brother stayed home. A police officer took me in his squad car. I kept saying to the police officer, I tried to revive him, but I couldn't. I kept apologizing for my tears. As I arrived at the hospital, I was taken to a small room where my mother was sitting  talking to one of the nurses. The nurse was bantering about. She finally said to my mother, sorry we were not able to save him.  My mother, only in the way she knew, begin speaking in tongues. The essence of what she was saying was, I'll see you again. We all wept bitter tears.

The next few days were spent making preparations for the home going services for my dad. I must tell you, we were as backwards as could be. We didn't know up from down or in from out. We were blessed that we had our family and the funeral director to fill in the gaps. They helped with everything from clothes to go on the body, finances. We were not prepared for this time at all.

The night of the funeral was on this wise. Momma was not taking it very well although he had smile on her face. It was only there for my brother and I and the rest of the family. I realize now we all fell into a pattern of sadness. We arrived at the front door of the church. Lining up we we ushered into the church edifice to the front row. Many of our neighbors were there, as was friends of the family, our family from both sides.  Leon Amos one of the neighborhood children begin playing softly. The program called for many songs. I even sung a song that I had written, that my dad liked, called "Destiny". There were so many spoken remarks and condolences. For me it just seemed like the routine eulogy, by my dad's friend Bishop Leonard Rimpson. I never remember saying goodbye to my father.

Today after 35 years I would like to say to my dad,

Goodnight Dad, sleep well, I will see you in the morning...

You did well and you kept the race to the end...

You were gone too soon...

Forever are you in my heart and actions...

I pray that you are proud of your two sons...

Thank you!