familial reconciliation
Decades pass, families wax and wane at their own pace. We add new faces, we watch them grow. We learn about the past that link us together, making us a unit. We also see our most admired people become our most missed as we celebrate lives well lived. For me, the best thing about those life celebrations is being able to see and love on my family members — anything more is a blessing. Let me tell you about those blessings.
When my mom’s mother passed away I assumed the funeral would be held in her hometown of Vinton, Ohio but I didn’t think much further than that. I definitely did not think my dad would end up conducting her funeral service. Now, please grant me the chance to tell you why this was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. My mom is white and my dad is black, but it doesn’t stop there though. My parents fell in love in the 80s when the opinions around interracial couples were quite negative. When my mom told her family about my dad there wasn’t one person who thought it was a good idea. Actually, they took it a little further by addressing my mom a letter explaining that if she chooses to be with this man she could consider herself disregarded when it came to her family. My mom proceeded on with love. After having her first kid she heard from a brother who simply missed his sister. Soon enough they went to visit, on so many eggshells. But since her family was able to put a name, a smiling face, and a contagious laugh with my dad’s dark skin they were able to end that visit on great terms. That visit led to frequent summer vacations for our family. Although it took others longer to adopt the idea of acceptance, I do have more memories of being loved as a child than excluded. My Grandma Evelyn would be so happy to know that. I never realized the guilt she had carried with her all those years, not until I understood that her will stated that the person she wanted to do her service was Roosevelt Brown (my father). Many years ago she never wanted this man in her life and now, her lasting wish was that this man be the one to speak on her life after it was gone. She didn’t care if it made certain people decide against attending. If you were going to be in attendance you would have to understand that loving people past a preconception is the most honorable thing to do. The way my dad expressed her love during that service was more than special. The way family members that I have never met wrapped their arms around me was more than meaningful. It was a reconciliation that spoke volumes to loving the right way.
My dad’s mother passed away in 2018. We traveled to south Alabama for her services. About three quarters of the way through her homegoing celebration a man performed a lovely song that my grandma requested. As I took in the beautiful homage I noticed that he looked an awful lot like my grandpa. He was definitely around my dad’s age but I was familiar enough with all my uncles to know he was not one of them. Later on, I caught myself pondering on it again so I ended up asking. “Hey dad, who was that William guy who sang so beautifully and where does he fit into the picture?” My dad responded, “ohhh yeah yeah, he looks alot like your Grandpa Homer huh? Well, believe it or not, that’s my half-brother.” At first I was shocked, then confused and then shocked again. First shock was simply because I hadn’t ever heard this story before, and definitely hadn’t ever met him. Confused only while putting the pieces together, soon realizing that he may have been my grandpa’s son but this was not my grandma’s son. Then another wave of shock at the fact that my grandmother knew this and still chose him to play such a significant part in the way we celebrated her life. I was well aware of the 11 children she had with her husband. I had now been made aware that there was another child that came from another woman in the midst of birthing and raising the family they created. What I’m not aware of is how much disturbance there was, if any at all. All I know is my Grandma Fannie was pure enough in her loving to choose this young man, whom she saw as a son, to be a part of her life even after her life was gone. If that’s not leaving a legacy of love I don’t know what is. She would have done this because what other way is there to celebrate life than to love, and love well.
These moments of reconciliation will always speak to my soul. I will forever be amazed at how much resolution can be found in the things that cause the most heart ache. Maybe that’s what people mean when they say there is beauty in the pain. Wounds hurt, but the way they heal sure does provide a story worth sharing.
