I think about this concept often; how things can simultaneously happen in different parts of the world at the same time. When learning about the Holocaust I would wonder what my grandparents were doing. Were they rallying troops to riot the European happenings? Were they focused on ensuring human rights would one day be given to Black americans? Were they studying hard in hopes of one day going to college? While one of the most prominent displays of organized genocide was occurring, what were people doing?
I wanted to make a YouTube video. It would take months to curate, but I wanted to document exactly where I was when I found out about something negative. This morning I was drinking ginger tea at my kitchen table when I read about the second incident of Texas package bombings. Again, another Black man was killed.
I had just finished sending some emails and went to Facebook to respond to my mother's message, when I found out Poppa Chris was dead. A Facebook post. A beautiful, 21st century ode to the beautiful life he lead written by his oldest daughter. The photos that followed showed him with each of his four children, smiling and loving. There was one of him and his grandson, my brother's first, both content and in the sun. I was even surprised to see a photo of myself, the two of us decked out in wedding attire two years prior for Mikey's wedding. There was a single photo of my mom: blurry, low lighting and my brother's friend is in it.
Love was not discussed between my mother and I as an illusive, ambiguous idea. No. My mother spoke about love as an encompassing feeling, that whether negative or positive, consumes you- you feel it. With her, love was a once in a lifetime feeling that she had only felt with Poppa Chris, my brother's dad.
I don't know many details of their relationship. I know that it was long before I was born, that they were in love, addicted to drugs, my brother was planned and Poppa Chris had been separated from his wife for years. It would be stupid to romanticize their whole relationship, they probably had their fights and disagreements. To be honest, it would be hard to imagine considering his calm demeanor, but then you remember my mother who falls more on the side of neurotic. Ying and yang. But the negative aspects of their relationship never came up when my mother would speak about him; only the simply fact that to this day, he was the love of her life.
The way she tells it, is that he refused to get a divorce from his wife and that's why they broke up. Poppa Chris had gotten married when he was young, maybe late teens/early 20s, because his girlfriend at the time had gotten pregnant. From what I know, they stayed together and ended up having a second child. By the time my mother and him got together, Poppa Chris and his wife had been separated for a few years at that point. Never to reconnect romantically again. But following the Catholic Church, neither his wife nor him wanted a divorce, in fear of being sent to directly to hell per the Church's ordinances. A divorce never came. My mother left.
Again, as my mother tells it, she chose to step away rather than live the rest of her life with a married man. My mother chose to love herself unconditionally, and honor the woman that she knows she is. She raised my brother by herself. She beat a drug habit by herself. She pulled it together and got on the right track, herself. My mother did this without a man, without a strong support system, without her parents. Our mother made sure we knew that my brother and I would always be able to take care of ourselves; and to see the strength and beauty in that.
Today, my brother is 31 years old. A man that I was blessed to see grow through the love his wife poured into him, which allowed him to love others. Writing that is too simple. Yes, his life experiences boils down to that simple statement in my eyes, but it was not an easy journey.
There was no father-figure for him to model himself after. Poppa Chris, as lovable a man as he was, was not the father that my brother needed. Mikey was drowning in pain when I began to be more aware of him. Mind you, I was ten years younger and the years leading up to him moving out at 18, he was out with his friends or at work. I would only see him when he got home late at night, arguing with my mom, or running out of the house. For years, I only saw the pain.
Then one day, it wasn't there anymore. It would be naive to state that I don't see flashes of it sometimes, whether it be in the way he recounts his childhood, our rocky relationship, our mother, the brokenness of our immediate family, or lack of a family in general. Pain is there, but there is so much more love to him now.
I'll be honest, Liz was not the obvious answer for my brother. It took time for her to grow on our family, and for Poppa Chris to stop calling her Becky. Here was a woman who graduated at the top of her class, went to Boston University, did her laundry on a schedule, had a schedule, paid her bills on time and was smart about her spending. This was not the type of woman anyone would have envisioned for my brother. When they met, Mikey was living in a small apartment with two other guys- sharing a bedroom and bunk-bed with one; dropped out of college; and was working at Applebees (maybe not, we weren't really talking during this period). To put it simply, Liz and my brother - who once found a roly poly in his Afro and lost a microwave in the mess of his apartment- did not seem to be a match made in heaven.
I didn't see or talk to them much before their wedding; save for celebratory dinners. So I did not see the love they had for one another, I didn't think that two people so different would actually be a forever team. And then I did.
After the wedding we all went to a bar across the street. I was maybe 19/20, didn't really know any of their friends and was so nervous trying to be the cool younger sister, that I clung to my brother's side a majority of the time. It was in that bar, sitting next to Mikey, that I saw love.
In a bar full of their closest friends and cousins, Mikey took Liz's head and held her. Foreheads pressed against each other, with these huge grins plastered in their face, they simply said "We did it."
My brother had found his happily ever after with a woman that, although seemingly polar opposite from him, loves eating out; drinking beer; hanging with their friends (and Danny); doesn't buy into consumerism; and gets the whole broken family thing. Liz loves my brother, and not in a prominent "in your face" type of manner, but in a way that will never have to be explained to anyone, because my brother knows and they both know that that's all that matters.
At 31, Mikey will not be the husband nor father that Poppa Chris was to him. He will stand by his wife's side and support her until the end of time. He will be a man that his handsome son, Ezekiel Edward Combs, will spend the rest of his life trying mirror. My brother will be a pillar for his family, and will continue to exude an overwhelming amount of love.
At 31, Mikey will continue to be the charming and goofy man that his father, Poppa Chris was. Although his jokes would not be considered politically correct, especially now, they were funny. Poppa Chris always had a one liner to hit you with, or a movie reference that I never understood but Jessica and Mikey always did. He could strike up a conversation with anyone and get them laughing or smiling- he was that type of man. A reminder that there was always something to smile at, and it's always better to have someone to smile with.
Today is March 19, 2018. My brother lost his father. My nephew lost his grandfather. My mother lost the single love of her life. This is for them. And as sad as this time may be, I just want to watch Rush Hour and laugh- I think Poppa Chris would really like that.