When Morning (Mourning) Comes: The Preparation
**TRIGGER POST: THIS POST IS ABOUT DEATH AND THE CORONA VIRUS**
If you are new to my blog, this is part 2 of a series. The first part is entitled, “When Morning (Mourning) Comes: The Call.
It can be found at https://coachjaleesa.blogspot.
The Call
I instantly start screaming. “Noooooo, Noooooooo, Noooooo!!!”
I collapse to the floor, Brandon tries to hold me and I fight him off. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I was going to throw up. I start yelling, “I want my mama! I want my mama”. Even in my despair, I knew being with my mom was the only acceptable action to help with the pain. With the chaos of the moment, Alisa is screaming to the top of her lungs. My mom is still on the phone at that point, Brandon picks up the phone and tells her I will call her back.
Brandon said my skin was burning up. He tried to make me drink something to cool me down, I couldn’t. I make myself calm down so I can calm Alisa down. Still sitting in the floor, I hold and rock her back and forth, tears still coming down my face, repeatedly saying, “I’m sorry, baby...mommy’s sorry”. I call my mom back and apologize for how I know that sounded on the receiving end and told her I would get home as soon as possible.
The Aftermath
Brandon: Baby, get off the floor.
Me: I can’t!
I felt like every piece of strength I had was gone. After a few moments, I’m able to gather myself enough to transition from the living room floor to our bedroom.
Me: I have to get home!
Brandon: I’m going to get you home, you don’t worry about that.
I don’t remember too much more about that night, except for another massive breakdown that came after I got Alisa to sleep. I had a video of the Anointed Voices looping over and over again. It was an old YouTube video of them singing, “Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross”. It was comforting to see dad in his element; it almost seemed like he was still here. All of a sudden, the grief overtook me like an enormous wave. I covered my mouth, trying to silence the uncontrollable sobbing, out of fear of waking Alisa. I was able to successfully exit our room and enter the guest bedroom. Brandon followed me. I lay in the fetal position, on the guest room bed, sobbing, “It’s not fair!!! Babe, it’s not fair!!!”. The sobbing started a ripple effect of gagging and dry heaving. Brandon scooped me off the bed and ushered me to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I looked unrecognizable.
Brandon so desperately wanted me to go to bed, but I knew the reality was that sleep wouldn’t find me that night. I was right.
The Next Day
I wasn’t going to post anything on social media, but after I saw my aunt’s post I went ahead and said something. Even though the words I typed were true, it still didn’t seem real.
Even after reading the hundreds of “my condolences”, “I’m sorry for your loss” and “I’m praying your strength”, it STILL didn’t feel real that he was gone. I tried my best to keep busy, avoiding my current reality, that in the following days we would lay our father to rest.
I’ll drive if I have to!
My dear friend, KA, who works for an airline, graciously offered us her buddy passes. Her generosity would cut the plane tickets down by more than 60%. Due to the pandemic and limited flights, the earliest we could leave was Tuesday (4/21). We graciously accepted the one-way ticket, not knowing when we would be able to return. Honestly, outside of booking the ticket, I don’t remember much of that day either; just no sleep, no appetite, lots of tears, and gratitude that we would be able to get home.
Booking the flight was a headache due to the limited flight availability. We would have to fly from Washington to Denver, then Denver to Raleigh, then drive from Raleigh to Virginia. A few hours after booking the flight, we received an email saying our flight was canceled. I called my friend to go back to the drawing board. We successfully booked another flight...or so I thought. After our second attempt, we get an email saying our flight from Washington would be delayed, which would cause us to miss our connecting flight to Richmond.
“I’ll drive if I have to and I’m not playing!” That’s what I told Brandon, and he knew I was serious. As I start to grow more frustrated, one of Brandon’s business associates texted him, asking how things were going. Brandon explained to Bob what was going on and Bob, without hesitation, said: “don’t worry, I got y’all”. The new flight was booked within the hour and we didn’t have to pay a dime.
Writing, Planning, and Packing
Sunday was dedicated to cleaning, packing, washing clothes, and working on stuff for dad’s service. My aunt wanted to know who was going to write the obituary. I posed the question in the sibling group I had created earlier that week, which I named “Big Ray’s Kids”. It’s 8 of us, so working on it together would prove to be a difficult task. My older sister (I’m the second oldest of the bunch) gave me the nod of approval to take on the task, if I desired. I told her I would write it and post it in the group for changes and suggestions.
4. That’s the number of times I had to stop writing so I could cry. Using past tense words to describe dad was surreal. Listen, I’m a blogger, I’ve co-authored a book, and don’t get me started on the hundreds of papers and blackboard assignments I’ve had to write in my college career...but this was by far, the hardest literary task to date.
I called Keke (she’s the other writer in the family). I was stuck on how to structure a certain sentence. I uploaded the draft in google docs so I could see her changes in real-time. As she is trying to read what I had already written, her voice started to tremble. It was too raw, too real, it was just too much. She made one suggestion before we got off the phone. Keke is a daddy’s girl, she just couldn’t do it and I was okay with that.
I read the finished obituary to Brandon, before presenting it to my siblings. It’s finished! Dad’s 54 years, inked on a notepad, stained in my tears, drafted in disbelief, love, and pain, was finished.
I would spend the following days packing and throwing away perishable food. We still didn’t know when we would come back. All we knew was, it would be more than 7 days, and the produce we purchased from the trip to the grocery store, wouldn’t survive our absence.
I packed our clothes, tightly rolling each garment to maximize bag space. With each piece of clothing, my stomach got tighter and tighter. “I’M JUST GOING TO FINISH TOMORROW”, I yelled to Brandon in the other room. I was starting to feel nauseous and needed to lie down.
Social Distancing
“When we get home, I don’t want anyone in Alisa’s face! We are wearing masks and staying 6 feet apart. I can’t lose another family member to this virus and I don’t know what we will come in contact with at the airport”.
That was my little speech to everyone before leaving Washington, this is important to know for the next section lol.
Our travel to Virginia was uneventful for the most part. We did get upgraded to first class, but that was dampened because of the airline’s limited services, in response to the pandemic. From first-class to economy, we all got the same bottle of water, cheez-its, cookie, and hand sanitizer wipe in a zip lock bag, though I did appreciate the extra legroom.
The planes were empty, I would say there were maybe 20 people on each plane. Everyone wore a variety of face masks, and they all tried quickly to exit the plane while still maintaining their distance. The airports looked like ghost towns. A look of fear and judgment covered travelers’ faces when anyone acted like they wanted to cough.
“Are you in line?”, the lady behind me asked, as I stood in the airport Chick-fil-A line. “Yes ma’am, just trying to give them some space”. She mumbled something under her breath, and I quickly let Brandon know that today was just not the day. He told me to go sit down and he would get the food. I was on edge and that lady didn’t know that at any moment I felt like I would crack under the pressure.
It seemed the closer we got to Virginia the more my anxiety grew. I wasn’t ready to see dad “like that”. The anxiousness of the reason we were going home, along with traveling with a toddler who wanted to touch everything, was starting to feel like too much.
We arrived in Richmond, got our bags, and met my mother-in-law outside the airport. As we packed the SUV, I heard someone yell my name from across the parking area. My college friend and dance partner, Monique surprised me at the airport with a beautiful card. It was so good to see her! She had been one of the few friends I brought home in my college years so she, of course, met dad.
This picture of Monique and I ministering so many years ago resonates a little differently now. The song we were dancing to in this picture was called, “Please Don’t Let Me Fall”. In this season of my life, gestures like hers, have kept me grounded when I wanted to give in to despair and agony.
“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to see your mom tonight?”, Brandon asked. “I’m good and plus we have on these traveling clothes. I want to shower and “wash off the airport” before coming in contact with anyone. I’m going to see her tomorrow”. I was trying to convince myself that I could surely wait 12 hours to see my mom. My mind said I could, but my heart needed to see her immediately.
“Babe, can we make a detour?” I asked. Of course, he said yes, he already knew lol. I called my mom. “Hey, ma! We’re close to your house. I’m not going to be there all night and we’re going to keep our distance. I just want to see you”.
We pulled up, and I felt like I couldn’t get out the car fast enough. I opened her house door and quickly ran up the stairs. As soon as I laid eyes on my mom I tackled her and sobbed in her arms. So much for social distancing, right? I didn’t think about social distancing or the pandemic when I saw her, my body went into what was natural. No one should have to bury one of their parents and be deprived of hugging their other parent...NO ONE.
The Funeral Home
I hadn’t seen my family since we left for Washington, a few months prior. Seeing them overwhelmed me with joy and pain all at the same time. I embraced my sister and the tears started instantly. “Come on we got this...come on”, she said in my ear. Reassuring myself and wiping my tears, “yeah, we got this”.
We all greeted each other with a variety of fist bumps, elbow taps, head nods, and quick hugs. We entered the funeral home, wearing face masks as if we were a team of doctors preparing to go into surgery. I saw dad’s name on the bulletin for upcoming services, it was at that moment where it started to feel different. We were led to the office and began the planning process. Sitting to the left side of the room was Aunt Michelle, Uncle David, Keke (my sister), Grandma, Jalen (my brother), and Michelle (my sister). In front of the funeral director’s desk sat my mom, me, and Aunt Veronica.
Moving down his checklist, the director asked about the casket. Everyone had been even-keeled up until this point. However, this particular box on the checklist seemed to have shifted the atmosphere instantly. It felt like the air was sucked out of the room, at least for me anyway. The other questions weren’t drenched in finality.
•Birth place-Emporia
•Kids-8
•Mother’s Name-Cherry
Those questions, I got you! But which casket design, that was too much. We all looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak, I finally broke the silence, requesting to see what they had in silver or blue (Cowboys colors). He showed us 2 designs that would accommodate dad’s large frame, and my brother choked back his tears and picked between the two.
We brought in dad’s suit, tie, jewelry, and undergarments in exchange for his phone, wallet, and car keys which were handed over in a zip-lock bag.
After the director counted up the cost of the arrangements, we had to pick the date. We would collectively pick Sunday afternoon to lay dad to rest, with public viewings on Saturday and Sunday.
More Planning
I really didn’t have time to be sad. After we left the funeral home, we went to Grandma’s to do more planning. We needed pictures for the obituary, we needed to work out the details of the service, and the hardest part, deciding who would be able to attend because of the state-mandated limitations.
We sat around the table and laughed at old pictures of the family, remembering the good times, while trying to navigate the new norm. We picked the pictures we would use, created the list of attendees, and went our separate ways.
When I got to the hotel, I typed the order of service, attached the pictures, Keke wrote a beautiful poem to include into the program, and the next day’s agenda would include picking the flowers and calling the attendees.
Picking Flowers
The suit was picked and pressed, the obituary was sent to the printers, and word of the viewings was public knowledge. I met my Grandma, Mom, Aunt Veronica, and Jalen at the flower shop to pick out daddy’s flowers.
Dad had so many flowers from family and friends! From Dallas Cowboys to fishing, Lakers to music, a school bus to peace lilies. There wasn’t a part of his livelihood that wasn’t represented in a floral arrangement.
Big Ray’s Last Ride (Part 1)
My Aunt Veronica told me Ms. Sharon, a friend of the family and a major influencer in the community, wanted to make sure daddy’s life was truly celebrated. Because we couldn’t have a public funeral, she proposed having a parade to allow our city to bid farewell.
I asked Auntie to let me take the lead on getting the word out, she gave me the green light. I sent Brandon 3 pictures and he created the flyer and verbiage on our iPad. After drafting a status to accompany it, we shared “Big Ray’s Last Ride”.
The line up of the processional grew QUICKLY! I thought it would be the attendees processing behind the hearse. Boyyyyy was I wrong. The school board offered to add a school bus to lead the processional. As time progressed, the parade grew larger and larger. Dad’s work truck, race car, race truck, boat, tractor, and the Anointed Voices trailer would all in attendance, and that was just a fraction of the vehicles. Ms. Whitaker called, requesting the flyer we made, so it could be transformed into a banner that would be attached to the sides of the bus. Mr. Artis, a friend of daddy’s and another community leader, graciously stepped in, taking over the planning of what would be dad’s last ride through town, a route dad took daily from work to home.
Moment by Moment
After picking his flowers, there was only one more thing left to do and that was contact everyone. I had to call each individual who was invited and let them know the service details. After calling 4 people, I reached out to my mom and told her I couldn’t do it anymore. There was a long list of attendees (they had to stay in their cars) and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. “Jaleesa, what do you need me to do?”. I told her to call about 10 people and I would do the rest. I somehow conjured up some strength and called the others on the list.
Looking back, the task of having to repeat the details of dad’s final arrangements over and over again was a struggle.
“Hey —————, this is Jaleesa, Raymond’s daughter. How are you? (They would usually respond with how they were struggling with dad’s passing, as we all were. They would follow-up asking me the same question) I’m just taking it moment by moment. I’m not going to keep you long, I just wanted to give you the details of dad’s service. We’re burying him on our family land and because of everything that’s going on, we’re asking everyone to stay in their cars. We’re lining up at the bus garage on Sunday at 2:30 to process to the service”.
After I called the last person on the list there was nothing left to do but wait. This part was hard. I had spent every moment from the time I found out about dad’s transition until that very moment, being busy. I was busy trying to book the flight, busy writing the obituary, busy packing, busy planning, but now I had to sit still, with my thoughts.
The next day was the viewing and my only goal for that day was to embrace the reality that daddy was gone.
————————————————————
The response from Thursday’s blog has been overwhelming. I’m so glad that in my process, someone else can be blessed. The third piece will be published this upcoming Thursday. I didn’t anticipate the words to flow so fast and freely but I’m grateful.
Jesus, Keep Me Near The Cross Cover by The Anointed Voices of Heaven - https://youtu.be/mZf-t627iqs
If you are new to my blog, this is part 2 of a series. The first part is entitled, “When Morning (Mourning) Comes: The Call.
It can be found at https://coachjaleesa.blogspot.
The Call
I instantly start screaming. “Noooooo, Noooooooo, Noooooo!!!”
I collapse to the floor, Brandon tries to hold me and I fight him off. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I was going to throw up. I start yelling, “I want my mama! I want my mama”. Even in my despair, I knew being with my mom was the only acceptable action to help with the pain. With the chaos of the moment, Alisa is screaming to the top of her lungs. My mom is still on the phone at that point, Brandon picks up the phone and tells her I will call her back.
Brandon said my skin was burning up. He tried to make me drink something to cool me down, I couldn’t. I make myself calm down so I can calm Alisa down. Still sitting in the floor, I hold and rock her back and forth, tears still coming down my face, repeatedly saying, “I’m sorry, baby...mommy’s sorry”. I call my mom back and apologize for how I know that sounded on the receiving end and told her I would get home as soon as possible.
The Aftermath
Brandon: Baby, get off the floor.
Me: I can’t!
I felt like every piece of strength I had was gone. After a few moments, I’m able to gather myself enough to transition from the living room floor to our bedroom.
Me: I have to get home!
Brandon: I’m going to get you home, you don’t worry about that.
I don’t remember too much more about that night, except for another massive breakdown that came after I got Alisa to sleep. I had a video of the Anointed Voices looping over and over again. It was an old YouTube video of them singing, “Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross”. It was comforting to see dad in his element; it almost seemed like he was still here. All of a sudden, the grief overtook me like an enormous wave. I covered my mouth, trying to silence the uncontrollable sobbing, out of fear of waking Alisa. I was able to successfully exit our room and enter the guest bedroom. Brandon followed me. I lay in the fetal position, on the guest room bed, sobbing, “It’s not fair!!! Babe, it’s not fair!!!”. The sobbing started a ripple effect of gagging and dry heaving. Brandon scooped me off the bed and ushered me to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I looked unrecognizable.
Brandon so desperately wanted me to go to bed, but I knew the reality was that sleep wouldn’t find me that night. I was right.
The Next Day
I wasn’t going to post anything on social media, but after I saw my aunt’s post I went ahead and said something. Even though the words I typed were true, it still didn’t seem real.
Even after reading the hundreds of “my condolences”, “I’m sorry for your loss” and “I’m praying your strength”, it STILL didn’t feel real that he was gone. I tried my best to keep busy, avoiding my current reality, that in the following days we would lay our father to rest.
I’ll drive if I have to!
My dear friend, KA, who works for an airline, graciously offered us her buddy passes. Her generosity would cut the plane tickets down by more than 60%. Due to the pandemic and limited flights, the earliest we could leave was Tuesday (4/21). We graciously accepted the one-way ticket, not knowing when we would be able to return. Honestly, outside of booking the ticket, I don’t remember much of that day either; just no sleep, no appetite, lots of tears, and gratitude that we would be able to get home.
Booking the flight was a headache due to the limited flight availability. We would have to fly from Washington to Denver, then Denver to Raleigh, then drive from Raleigh to Virginia. A few hours after booking the flight, we received an email saying our flight was canceled. I called my friend to go back to the drawing board. We successfully booked another flight...or so I thought. After our second attempt, we get an email saying our flight from Washington would be delayed, which would cause us to miss our connecting flight to Richmond.
“I’ll drive if I have to and I’m not playing!” That’s what I told Brandon, and he knew I was serious. As I start to grow more frustrated, one of Brandon’s business associates texted him, asking how things were going. Brandon explained to Bob what was going on and Bob, without hesitation, said: “don’t worry, I got y’all”. The new flight was booked within the hour and we didn’t have to pay a dime.
Writing, Planning, and Packing
Sunday was dedicated to cleaning, packing, washing clothes, and working on stuff for dad’s service. My aunt wanted to know who was going to write the obituary. I posed the question in the sibling group I had created earlier that week, which I named “Big Ray’s Kids”. It’s 8 of us, so working on it together would prove to be a difficult task. My older sister (I’m the second oldest of the bunch) gave me the nod of approval to take on the task, if I desired. I told her I would write it and post it in the group for changes and suggestions.
4. That’s the number of times I had to stop writing so I could cry. Using past tense words to describe dad was surreal. Listen, I’m a blogger, I’ve co-authored a book, and don’t get me started on the hundreds of papers and blackboard assignments I’ve had to write in my college career...but this was by far, the hardest literary task to date.
I called Keke (she’s the other writer in the family). I was stuck on how to structure a certain sentence. I uploaded the draft in google docs so I could see her changes in real-time. As she is trying to read what I had already written, her voice started to tremble. It was too raw, too real, it was just too much. She made one suggestion before we got off the phone. Keke is a daddy’s girl, she just couldn’t do it and I was okay with that.
I read the finished obituary to Brandon, before presenting it to my siblings. It’s finished! Dad’s 54 years, inked on a notepad, stained in my tears, drafted in disbelief, love, and pain, was finished.
I would spend the following days packing and throwing away perishable food. We still didn’t know when we would come back. All we knew was, it would be more than 7 days, and the produce we purchased from the trip to the grocery store, wouldn’t survive our absence.
I packed our clothes, tightly rolling each garment to maximize bag space. With each piece of clothing, my stomach got tighter and tighter. “I’M JUST GOING TO FINISH TOMORROW”, I yelled to Brandon in the other room. I was starting to feel nauseous and needed to lie down.
Social Distancing
“When we get home, I don’t want anyone in Alisa’s face! We are wearing masks and staying 6 feet apart. I can’t lose another family member to this virus and I don’t know what we will come in contact with at the airport”.
That was my little speech to everyone before leaving Washington, this is important to know for the next section lol.
Our travel to Virginia was uneventful for the most part. We did get upgraded to first class, but that was dampened because of the airline’s limited services, in response to the pandemic. From first-class to economy, we all got the same bottle of water, cheez-its, cookie, and hand sanitizer wipe in a zip lock bag, though I did appreciate the extra legroom.
The planes were empty, I would say there were maybe 20 people on each plane. Everyone wore a variety of face masks, and they all tried quickly to exit the plane while still maintaining their distance. The airports looked like ghost towns. A look of fear and judgment covered travelers’ faces when anyone acted like they wanted to cough.
“Are you in line?”, the lady behind me asked, as I stood in the airport Chick-fil-A line. “Yes ma’am, just trying to give them some space”. She mumbled something under her breath, and I quickly let Brandon know that today was just not the day. He told me to go sit down and he would get the food. I was on edge and that lady didn’t know that at any moment I felt like I would crack under the pressure.
It seemed the closer we got to Virginia the more my anxiety grew. I wasn’t ready to see dad “like that”. The anxiousness of the reason we were going home, along with traveling with a toddler who wanted to touch everything, was starting to feel like too much.
We arrived in Richmond, got our bags, and met my mother-in-law outside the airport. As we packed the SUV, I heard someone yell my name from across the parking area. My college friend and dance partner, Monique surprised me at the airport with a beautiful card. It was so good to see her! She had been one of the few friends I brought home in my college years so she, of course, met dad.
This picture of Monique and I ministering so many years ago resonates a little differently now. The song we were dancing to in this picture was called, “Please Don’t Let Me Fall”. In this season of my life, gestures like hers, have kept me grounded when I wanted to give in to despair and agony.
“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to see your mom tonight?”, Brandon asked. “I’m good and plus we have on these traveling clothes. I want to shower and “wash off the airport” before coming in contact with anyone. I’m going to see her tomorrow”. I was trying to convince myself that I could surely wait 12 hours to see my mom. My mind said I could, but my heart needed to see her immediately.
“Babe, can we make a detour?” I asked. Of course, he said yes, he already knew lol. I called my mom. “Hey, ma! We’re close to your house. I’m not going to be there all night and we’re going to keep our distance. I just want to see you”.
We pulled up, and I felt like I couldn’t get out the car fast enough. I opened her house door and quickly ran up the stairs. As soon as I laid eyes on my mom I tackled her and sobbed in her arms. So much for social distancing, right? I didn’t think about social distancing or the pandemic when I saw her, my body went into what was natural. No one should have to bury one of their parents and be deprived of hugging their other parent...NO ONE.
I gathered myself, dried my tears, fixed my mask, and sat 6 feet away from my mom. I just needed to look at her. It was like after seeing her I gained the strength I needed for the following day’s task...going to the funeral home.
The Funeral Home
I hadn’t seen my family since we left for Washington, a few months prior. Seeing them overwhelmed me with joy and pain all at the same time. I embraced my sister and the tears started instantly. “Come on we got this...come on”, she said in my ear. Reassuring myself and wiping my tears, “yeah, we got this”.
We all greeted each other with a variety of fist bumps, elbow taps, head nods, and quick hugs. We entered the funeral home, wearing face masks as if we were a team of doctors preparing to go into surgery. I saw dad’s name on the bulletin for upcoming services, it was at that moment where it started to feel different. We were led to the office and began the planning process. Sitting to the left side of the room was Aunt Michelle, Uncle David, Keke (my sister), Grandma, Jalen (my brother), and Michelle (my sister). In front of the funeral director’s desk sat my mom, me, and Aunt Veronica.
The director asked general questions. What was his full name? Where was he born? What are his parents’ names? How many children did he have? We answered these questions, not knowing he was gathering information for the obituary. I apologized and let him know that the obituary had already been prepared and I would send it to him.
•Birth place-Emporia
•Kids-8
•Mother’s Name-Cherry
Those questions, I got you! But which casket design, that was too much. We all looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak, I finally broke the silence, requesting to see what they had in silver or blue (Cowboys colors). He showed us 2 designs that would accommodate dad’s large frame, and my brother choked back his tears and picked between the two.
We brought in dad’s suit, tie, jewelry, and undergarments in exchange for his phone, wallet, and car keys which were handed over in a zip-lock bag.
After the director counted up the cost of the arrangements, we had to pick the date. We would collectively pick Sunday afternoon to lay dad to rest, with public viewings on Saturday and Sunday.
More Planning
I really didn’t have time to be sad. After we left the funeral home, we went to Grandma’s to do more planning. We needed pictures for the obituary, we needed to work out the details of the service, and the hardest part, deciding who would be able to attend because of the state-mandated limitations.
We sat around the table and laughed at old pictures of the family, remembering the good times, while trying to navigate the new norm. We picked the pictures we would use, created the list of attendees, and went our separate ways.
When I got to the hotel, I typed the order of service, attached the pictures, Keke wrote a beautiful poem to include into the program, and the next day’s agenda would include picking the flowers and calling the attendees.
Picking Flowers
The suit was picked and pressed, the obituary was sent to the printers, and word of the viewings was public knowledge. I met my Grandma, Mom, Aunt Veronica, and Jalen at the flower shop to pick out daddy’s flowers.
Dad had so many flowers from family and friends! From Dallas Cowboys to fishing, Lakers to music, a school bus to peace lilies. There wasn’t a part of his livelihood that wasn’t represented in a floral arrangement.
Big Ray’s Last Ride (Part 1)
My Aunt Veronica told me Ms. Sharon, a friend of the family and a major influencer in the community, wanted to make sure daddy’s life was truly celebrated. Because we couldn’t have a public funeral, she proposed having a parade to allow our city to bid farewell.
I asked Auntie to let me take the lead on getting the word out, she gave me the green light. I sent Brandon 3 pictures and he created the flyer and verbiage on our iPad. After drafting a status to accompany it, we shared “Big Ray’s Last Ride”.
The line up of the processional grew QUICKLY! I thought it would be the attendees processing behind the hearse. Boyyyyy was I wrong. The school board offered to add a school bus to lead the processional. As time progressed, the parade grew larger and larger. Dad’s work truck, race car, race truck, boat, tractor, and the Anointed Voices trailer would all in attendance, and that was just a fraction of the vehicles. Ms. Whitaker called, requesting the flyer we made, so it could be transformed into a banner that would be attached to the sides of the bus. Mr. Artis, a friend of daddy’s and another community leader, graciously stepped in, taking over the planning of what would be dad’s last ride through town, a route dad took daily from work to home.
Moment by Moment
After picking his flowers, there was only one more thing left to do and that was contact everyone. I had to call each individual who was invited and let them know the service details. After calling 4 people, I reached out to my mom and told her I couldn’t do it anymore. There was a long list of attendees (they had to stay in their cars) and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. “Jaleesa, what do you need me to do?”. I told her to call about 10 people and I would do the rest. I somehow conjured up some strength and called the others on the list.
Looking back, the task of having to repeat the details of dad’s final arrangements over and over again was a struggle.
“Hey —————, this is Jaleesa, Raymond’s daughter. How are you? (They would usually respond with how they were struggling with dad’s passing, as we all were. They would follow-up asking me the same question) I’m just taking it moment by moment. I’m not going to keep you long, I just wanted to give you the details of dad’s service. We’re burying him on our family land and because of everything that’s going on, we’re asking everyone to stay in their cars. We’re lining up at the bus garage on Sunday at 2:30 to process to the service”.
After I called the last person on the list there was nothing left to do but wait. This part was hard. I had spent every moment from the time I found out about dad’s transition until that very moment, being busy. I was busy trying to book the flight, busy writing the obituary, busy packing, busy planning, but now I had to sit still, with my thoughts.
The next day was the viewing and my only goal for that day was to embrace the reality that daddy was gone.
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The response from Thursday’s blog has been overwhelming. I’m so glad that in my process, someone else can be blessed. The third piece will be published this upcoming Thursday. I didn’t anticipate the words to flow so fast and freely but I’m grateful.
Jesus, Keep Me Near The Cross Cover by The Anointed Voices of Heaven - https://youtu.be/mZf-t627iqs
This is beautifully written.I am watching it on you tube at this very moment.My thoughts and prayers are always with you and your family.Your dad was one of the kindest men that I had ever endured.May God Bless each and everyone in your family
ReplyDeleteThanks for the next chapter of your heart. It had me in a place of when we burried my daddy. He was in a singing group as well, The Roanoke Rapids Jubliees of Roanoke Rapids. Even though I have my days lord knows I do but being able to read your blogs has really helped me to walk a little further and remember my daddys final days. May God continue to wrap you and the entire family in his arms and let you know as only he can that the sun will rise again and everyday it does thats your daddy looking down and smiling because even in his absence you all still continued his legacy. Love ya and b blessed.
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