Sins of the Father Pt. 5

This blog is dedicated to the lovely women of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Inc. whose love, assistance and finer womanhood helped my family through this difficult time. Sorors, I will never forget or be able to repay that debt. ~TLT

Can you see, with your mind’s eye,

Peoples dwelling together?

Sorrow has passed. Peace at last!

Life without tears and pain.

Sing out with joy of heart.

You too can have a part.

Live for the day when you’ll say:

‘Life without end—at last!’-Kingdom Melody #15

I have sat at this computer for the past 8 hours, alternating between this blog, my Star Wars games, and looking over pictures and letters from my past. I have not slept in damn near a week. Time it seems has completely stopped. Or that’s how it feels. All of this is so damn surreal. I feel slightly guilty for wanting to sleep. But how can I think of sleep when the machinations of the wicked are around, with feet hurrying to run to badness (Proverbs 6:18)? Suddenly as if on cue my random thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the rain hitting the window, yet the sun coming through the dining room window. I laugh at the irony. Just like in life, pop’s has managed to merge to joy and pain, sunshine and rain. I am told it’s a gift I have. I doubt it. Still it’s enough to break the trance I am in. I take a deep breath and stand up. My sister comes out of her room. She asks why I haven’t been to sleep. I tell her I can’t sleep. Not today.

Today is my daddy’s funeral.

I get dresses quickly, fielding calls and helping my mother. She can’t stand. I have to remind her that this is something we have to do. My younger brother is upset. He can’t tie a tie. Like my father before me, I show him. He comments on how I look just like dad. I used to hate to her that, but now prettier words have never been spoken. The tears are sometimes broken by laughter of my father and his shenanigans. I promise my mother I won’t leave her side. I promise her that we will make it through the day.

Then the phone rings. It’s the limo driver. My mother almost faints. My stomach turns. My brother helps my mother gather her composure. The walk to the car seems to take forever. The limo driver, Mr. Wilson greets our family. I thank him. We file into the limo. My mother sinks into her seats and laments “O Jehovah, please help me”. I hold her hand. This is insane. But I have to keep it strong. I have a promise to uphold. I hug her and smile. She takes a deep breathe. The limo pulls off.

On the drive to the Kingdom Hall, I notice the sun shines through the rain clouds. Again I think of my father. It is reassuring. There we are greeted by well wishers and family, I am greeted by a few frat brothers, and my son’s mother. She asks me do I want her to take the boys in. I tell her “No, this is a walk the Thomas men must take together”.

A sister who helped my mother into the Truth walks my mother to the front, my brothers lead my sister and I lead my sons. This is the longest walk I have ever had to take. My oldest son’s hand is shaking; his youngest son’s hand is sweating. I lead them to the second row. There I offer them the choice; they can join me on the front row, or sit behind me with Mommy. Centrell decides to stay with his mother, over come by sorrow. I am not mad. He loved his “paw-paw”, and “paw-paw” loved him, being the first born grandson. I nod touch his cheek, and allow him to sit. I tear up. My youngest son Devin, my solider stands up and asks to sit with me. I allow him to do so. Devin is like me. He’s a front line, into the fire kind of guy.

The funeral begins. I can’t even describe the feelings, I can’t describe the scene. I just know that we are saying good bye to the one man I loved, the one man who I respect and feared.

I wish I could describe in detail what it was like to pallbearer for my father. As his caretaker the last two years, it was an honor to finally get to that place, to walk him to his quiet resting place. It felt good to see the brothers working towards the common good.

As the coffin goes into the ground, my brother Devin, gets on his knees and kisses it. It was a picture worth a thousand words. As I walk back to the car, my emotions swell, and as I get into the car I begin to cry harder than I ever did in life. I allow myself to mourn, as the pain has finally passed. Embracing in his arms, my brother whispers to me “It’s your kingdom now, I am your student. Can you unify the land or go out like Liu Chan (Google search it).” I catch my breathe. I nod. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

The morning he died, a dear friend said to me that I had nothing to be sad about, as I served him well. I made his final months comfortable. That put it all into perspective. It really did.

I finished my task. I served him WELL.

Goodnight Dear Father, I will see you in the morning!

And that is Straight No Chaser!

TLT

Dec 22, 2006

11:48pm

The Once and Future King

“You have substance; we just need to close out your academic career. We need to re-focus this obsession with making a “family”, and re-direct your energy to your pursuits in Black Studies.” I could do nothing but stand there, at attention like I’ve done at least million times before and hear my mentor, my lyrical blade master hit me with another right on critique. It was all I could do to fight back tears because he, she and they had been right. I had put too much focus on breaking a cycle, I had sacrificed everything not to be like my father and the biggest of these was my Black Studies Career.

Let’s be real here: I should have my Black Studies Department. I should have my Ph.D. There is no discernable reason that I should have not been mine. In reality,

“Only the mistakes have been mine”.

Yes I didn’t want to be like my father and uncles. Yes I felt that my sons should have a nuclear Cosby show like home. However, I shouldn’t have sacrificed an important component. Simply I can’t give them that if I don’t have a career. Hell aint nobody trying to be my wife if I don’t have a career. I don’t have to be a vulgar careerist, (more on that in a later blog) to be successful in academia, and I can achieve both.

With that in mind, I have decided to go back to the basics. I have decided to reacquaint myself with the early lessons which I have forgotten, I admit. But that lapse of knowledge can be very detrimental in a lyrical blade duel. So now it is me, Hare, Blassingame, Cruse. It is as I read on a website “a new negro with old ass books”. While I aint new, I am re-dedicating myself to my craft and going back to look forward. Over the past 9 years, my style has become too eccentric, to wild and I need to simplify it. I need to remember the simple moves and the basic actions to become more efficient. “The Dignity of Simplicity” is what the last rule states and perhaps I need to refocus on that.

The other reason I am going back is to find out what we may have lost due to time and ignorance. Could something be in those sacred texts that we have overlooked or was afraid to really study? Did we hide or intentionally forget someone so radical for his time that now we NEED this knowledge to get over the bridge. This is akin to someone discovering a lost sword style, a style that might have been misunderstood, a style that might have been so powerful that people didn’t want to even talk about it much less use it. This style has been locked away in a cave and probably discovered by a student who had achieved much but wanted to take it to the next level. Or to use another example is how the world of jazz was in an uproar when the Library of Congress found Coltrane and Monk in Carnegie hall. A misunderstood and unappreciated piece of work was now found for a world ready for it. Either way I am that student.

8 years ago, I colleague of mine told me “You are the best at this. You are pure. You are power”. At that time it was obvious even to a blind man that I was heir apparent to the Conference, the department, all that I surveyed. Long story short, I was the King. Mistakes, arrogance and joining Phi Beta Sigma cost me that birthright and my place.

I love to say that I am to Black Studies what Bleek Gilliam was to jazz. I do believe it is time that I re-dedicate my life to my craft as Bleek did to his.

I think it is time I became King again

And that is Straight, No Chaser

TLT