She gave a shit.

 

The sun is out, the way the world has all shown up for this day amazes me to my core. Blue skies, an old white church in the valley where my mamaw's parents raised her. People I have never met and a procession of the ones I know best. My sister, Kayla, helped my grandfather, and so did my brother piggy as he climbed the stairs. The stairs leading to the cemetery. Her casket is white with pink highlights, beneath an artificial cover that the old folks and her children sit under while I stand out in the sun. My brother Marcus is crying and sobbing brave tears that are like a marching drum to the procession of our hearts. We followed her this far, so why not go the rest of the way? I have not seen her in months, yet I know how she looked from a photograph of those who have. She was in bad health for a long while, and now she has left us for the sunless lands of shifting dunes and perpetual twilight. Some have told me she is nothing now, but she lives in our hearts at least, as long as we live, and I hope the others she helped in her love-filled (if mischievous) way.

She told me once, "You're gonna miss me when I am gone." "mamaw, I am going to follow you. I am going to get on your nerves in heaven." another time, she was watching her soap opera, and she said, "don't ever come between a woman and her soaps." I reached for the teddy bear I teased I was going to take from her, and she said "Drew." with as much exasperation as the human voice can express, and I laughed.

She was sweet; I loved to aggravate her and tease her. She seemed to love me because I seemed to understand she wasn't some fragile character that is in a fairytale but a human being. She seemed to get annoyed at the world for not letting her enjoy it as much as she deserved. Her last words, someone told me, were, "don't call an ambulance, I am going to be mad at you if you call an ambulance." it wasn't that she was ready to die. But the opposite. She didn't want to be annoyed with her death because she was in love with life. She knew the cycle of information is a dance, and we shift partners. We switch roles, and we go to a place we have never dreamed. The Dark is oblivion. She isn't in the Dark; no, she isn't there, at all floating around in nothingness. Nothing is nothing, not even nothing. The nameless road leads wherever we go. some call it the tao, others Christ; it is the path of many roads for wayfaring strangers.

She wrote a little of her life story and was humble. I read some of her writing, and she said she wished she could have learned to be a good cook like her mom. I told her she was a good cook. She just looked at me like I wouldn't understand. I think I do now. I wish I had the joy for life and the kindness and patience she had when dealing with people who couldn't believe she understood more about life and meaning than a lifetime could express, as for the title of my blog post. I told once years ago that I would write a blog post about her and call it "she gave a shit." she said, "you better keep me and my name off your blog." but you know what? She is not here to get annoyed at me, but God do I wish she were.