Jowanza Joseph

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Sunshine

Christmas Morning, Breakfast, Horace Pippin, 1945

My mother passed away on August 13, 2021. I spent last week and weekend with family members and friends, planning her funeral and then carrying through with all the services. I received texts from friends, family members, and many people I haven't heard from in a long time. My home is filled with plants, flowers, cards, and gifts. I feel loved, appreciated, and I feel like I have the appropriate space to mourn. It will take me a while to navigate life with my only parent missing from it, but I feel great confidence that I can do it. I have the support system, my closure, and my heart.


When I was a teenager, I loved the album God's Son by Nas. It was released in 2002; it was an album about stepping into a new phase of his career, one where he was a parent and one where he didn't have his mother by his side any longer. Nas lost his mother to cancer shortly before working on the album. One of my favorite songs from God's Son is Dance, where Nas longs to share one more dance (a slow dance) with his mother. He imagines how different this life would be if he could have one more opportunity to talk to his mother. Toward the end of the final verse, he says: 


"If only I could hear your voice and your laughter— just one more time, my chest would be filled up with sunshine." 


As I listened to this song tonight, I realized how much I share this sentiment and wish. The things I'll miss the most are just talking to my mom about the mundane, sharing a downright goofy joke with her so I can hear her laugh and ease her stress. The thought of getting her to laugh once more eases the burden of losing her just a little. I don't expect grief to go by quickly, but I do feel a measure of sunshine. As the days go, dim warmth becomes warmer, and one day I expect to be filled. I'll share that sunshine with whoever needs it.