Legacy and Transitions

(Dedicated to my Grandmother)

Ma-Ma, I remember our last conversation very clearly. It was July 26, 2008.

I came over to your place, to visit and do the granddaughter check-in. We hadn’t talked a lot recently. I would say it was because I was busy with work stuff and that you went down to stay with your youngest son and his family for a moment because of an episode that placed you in the hospital awhile back. But it was also because we had a difference of opinion about a couple of things and you totally hurt my feelings. So in my anger, I didn’t call for a while.

We had coffee and chatted. I first told you about the guy I was seeing. A soft opening of a conversation if you believe it. You asked if I was bringing him to the reunion, and I said, “I don’t know.” You were happy that I was finally seeing someone, and invited me to bring him over, before the reunion, to check him out.

But I came over for a bigger reason- to share my presentation plans with you. I was nervous and excited to present to over 100 educators the following week at DePaul University. I was sharing a research project I undertook using Positive Behavior Intervention and Support within my charter network. I wanted your final approval because your opinion mattered. It always mattered. I wanted you to be proud of me and the work I was doing in my school. I pulled out my laptop, showed my slides. The activities. My research. Everything.

I stepped away and smiled, waiting for your approval.

You smiled, looked at me, and said, “I told you so.”

Five days later, on July 31st, you went into the hospital. August 1, 2008, you passed away.

You have always wanted me to go into education. And I, your stubborn firstborn granddaughter, always fought you on that. I tried a little bit of everything, from radio to community activism. Ultimately, I found myself working with kids who needed an advocate and started spending time in schools. This led to becoming a School Social Worker, just like you. In a way, I guess, I will always strive to continue your legacy.

But your shoes… your heart… your grace…your style… were always too big to fill.

You served soo many people and organizations. The award ceremonies honoring your contributions. The last birthday party that you organized where people gave you your flowers of appreciation, love, and respect. When people spoke about you, you were the first, the constant, the brave in your fields. Your dedication to your reputation never faltered. You even managed to dictate to me to follow up with your clients when you had your initial hospital stint. And what did I do? I did exactly as instructed because I didn’t want to disappoint.

As a child, I was in awe of you. From the way you wore your hair, to how everyone who was anyone knew who you were. I would tag along with you to women’s luncheons and community programs. You hated it when salads were cleared from tables before the main meal, and always insisted to keep yours. Quietly listening just like everyone else in the space to the way you talked. You were a woman who can capture a room and people would listen and move to act.

As a young woman, I was angry with you because you never minced words and never apologized. You hurt my feelings on more than one occasion. Whether it was about my work, or politics, or even my lack of relationships. I remember you telling me that you were too old to apologize. Sometimes I didn’t want to hear your opinion, because your opinion was too harsh and often too accurate.

As an adult, I just wanted to be like you. I still remember the evening of the graduate dinner for the School of Social Work. I invited you because I wanted you there, but I knew you were coming back from a trip and wasn’t sure you could make it. But you came straight from the airport to be there for me and saw me receive the Outstanding Graduate Award. I think we were both happy that you made it. For me, it was the first time I knew what it felt like to get some flowers. I also knew then how proud you were that I was continuing your legacy.

I always wonder if I have done you proud these past fourteen years. I wonder if you are looking down on me, proud that although I delayed going into the field of education, that I ultimately followed in a version of your footsteps. Even prouder that I did it in my own way, within my own time. Because like you, my path wasn’t exactly straight, but it got me to be where I am supposed to be.

I always think that if you were still here, we would talk more and I would be in a headspace that could handle your ever-present opinions. I wonder if you would’ve visited the Middle East before I moved here because you always had to be the first in something and always had a sense of adventure and travel.

I wonder how you would have guided me through my darker moments these most recent years, where I questioned my strengths and myself. I know that you would tell me to power through, to not give up, to not quit, because that wasn’t the woman I was brought up to be.

I wonder if I would have ever had the courage to speak up against you when you said hurtful things or disparged the people I love in my life. How throughout every thing and every way, family will always be important.

As I start to make another transition, I’m getting to do something I always knew you wanted to do, to go live in Ghana. You always were the one who worked on learning, discovering, and sharing our family roots. I hope to continue that wonder and learn more of who I am, and be in constant admiration of the stock I am descendant from.

I wonder if you were physically present, if you’d make the journey and be by my side and embrace this change. But in a way my body, my stature, perspective and constant wonder, is an extension of who you are.

Ma-ma, I will continue to be a representative of your legacy, especially in this next transition. You always said that I was made to do great things, and that I am you. So I guess as I continue to live this life, you will always have the final say.