Chapter 1
JAMES LEROY Parker
Imagine if you were dying at this very moment. Would you want to be in a hospital, where there are doctors and nurses that could possibly save your life? But, if your condition was fatal and there’s nothing anyone could do, would you rather be at home in the comfort of your own bed with family and friends around you? Let’s say you pick the latter, would it concern you that your mother, father, sister, brother, son, daughter or even a cousin would have to live the rest of their lives watching you die? These are the thoughts I had as I kneeled at my mother’s bedside, holding her hand and watching her struggle taking her last few breaths.
My mom had more courage than anyone I’ve ever known. She was a strong, beautiful black woman and for the past several months she had been suffering with Cancer. She had several treatments of radiation as well as a few operations however her body wasn’t strong enough to endure any longer. Therefore, on October 14, 2011, at 6:00 am, I watched my mom take her last breath as God took her home to have ever lasting life.
My name is James Leroy Parker Sr., I am 51 years old, a father of 3 grown children and I am a proud, black, gay man. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina, I am a bankruptcy attorney and I have my own law firm. Now, before you get the wrong idea, I’m not a conceited brotha, I just like to lay my cards out on the table and call a spade a spade. Yes, old school style. I pretty much stay to myself, however, I do have a few good friends that I love and adore. There’s Angela, Juan, Ken and Frankie but I’ll get back to them later.
Three years ago, I moved my mother into my home so that I could take care of her when I wasn’t working and paid nurses to watch over her while I worked. I never realized how hard it would be to prepare for funeral arrangements. This is the time I wished I had siblings but being the only child, I had no other choice but to step up and give my mom a Home Going in style that she would from time to time talk about.
It took me little over a week to make all the arrangements, including contacting family, friends and setting the date of October 23rd for her Home Going service. Everything was rear and ready to go, except for me. The night before the Home Going, I stayed in my bedroom balling my eyes out as though I was a small child. For some reason, I couldn’t get the thought of watching my mother dying on her death bed. Seeing her gasp and trying to catch her last breath is so embedded in my mind, I can’t seem to think of anything else and the tears won’t stop.
My children, members of my family as well as friends were all gathered downstairs talking, eating and laughing while having fond memories of my mother. But for me, I didn’t want to talk, laugh or eat because not only did I lose my mother but I also lost my best friend.
You see, my mom and I were so much alike. We seem to like the same things, we laughed at the same things and we would also finish each other’s sentences. Most of my friends thought we were more like brother and sister as appose to mother and son. Ms. Parker was indeed a strong, beautiful, young looking seventy year old woman. She was a single mother and she brought me up to work hard, respect others, be kind to others and most of all, love God.
“Dad, are you ok?” I heard my youngest daughter asked as she knocked on the door and entered.
“I’m as good as I can be baby girl,” I replied, wiping my eyes with tissue as she sat next to me on the bed.
“You know everyone downstairs is worried about you. You up here in this room all by yourself.”
“I know baby, but tell them I’m fine. I just want to be alone, ok?”
“Alright daddy, but just so you know, I’m going to bring you something to eat in a few and I want you to eat it because I haven’t seen you eat anything since I arrived last night.”
“I will, I promise,” I answered as she leaned over to give me a hug before leaving the room.
Michelle who is twenty four and my youngest daughter is worst than a mother hen. Out of all of my children, she’s the one that feels the need to help anyone who may need help. She has a heart of gold and would give you the shirt off her back if you asked her for it. She’s a nurturer just like my mother. And I know someday she will make a wonderful mother. Currently, she’s a sophomore at University of Baltimore and studying to be a lawyer, just like me and I couldn’t be more proud of her.
Valerie who is 27 and my second oldest child is a Captain in The United States Army and stationed at Fort Jackson, South, Carolina. As for Valerie, she’s more of a take charge kind of person; always want to be in control. I guess in a way, she gets that from me.
My oldest, James Jr. is thirty years old and one of Philadelphia’s finest Police Officer. He lives in Philly with his wife Jennifer and their 3 children. Yes, I am a grandfather and I would want to think that I am one of the best grandfather’s a child could have. Meaning, I spoil them rotten. Whatever they want or whenever they call, I’m there to give them anything they want. Of course their parents don’t like it most of the time but that’s my job as a grandparent.
My ex wife and I separated more than 10 years ago but fortunately, we were able to raise our children to adulthood without anger and or blame. As a matter of fact, my ex wife Donna and I are still friends and we still visit each other during the holidays, birthdays and celebrations, even though she remarried and moved on with her life. As a matter of fact, she married Bishop Saunders from Bethel AME church and since her father passed away a few years ago, I was honored when she asked me to give her away.
However, the only solace I feel at this moment is of knowing that they are all here for me in my time of need. I’m thankful and I’m blessed however, the tears still won’t stop. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.
§§§§§§
As a family, we lined up outside the doors of the church and watched as the pull bearers carried my mother’s casket down the aisle towards the pulpit. My children and I walked hand in hand as we followed behind and all I could think was how beautiful and elegant the church looked. Friends of my mother had decorated the church so many flowers, balloons and craft paper along the seats; it looked more like a wedding than a funeral. It actually brought a smile to my face because I knew my mother would have loved it.
Once we may our way down front and we were seated, I looked around the sanctuary and it was standing room only. People I hadn’t seen in years came from all over to attend and it caused a lump to form in my throat knowing that my mother was loved and adored by so many people.
My ex wife’s husband, Bishop Saunders began the service with prayer:
“Lord we come to you today with broken hearts and confused minds. We know that calling home mother Parker was no mistake. You know all and see all and therefore we ask that you comfort her son James and her grandchildren, so that they may continue to live, love and worship your name. We know that this is not a death but it’s a rebirth into your kingdom whereby she will have everlasting life. We thank you Father God for her presence here on earth and the lives she’s touched along the way. May she continue to be one of your angels and look upon her family with pride and honor and we pray Heavenly Father that when you took her home, you said, well done my child. To the Father, Son and The Holy Ghost, may the church say, Amen.”
As the service was underway with speakers, the choir singing, and people crying, it was just a matter of time before I would have to walk up to the podium and say a few words. I really hadn’t thought of what I would say however, this seemed to be a tradition in my family for members closest to the deceased to say some parting words of comfort and content. Again, the only thing on my mind was seeing my mother gasp taking her last breath. No sooner than the thought of having to make a speech, I heard Bishop Saunders say, “At this time, will James come and give us a few words of comfort.”
While the musician played, “Precious Lord Take My Hand” softly in the background I rose from my seat and walked nervously to the podium. As I stood there and looked out at the audience, there were so many thoughts coming in and out of my head that I couldn’t even speak. My throat was so dry I felt it was about to close up on me. I tried coughing to clear my throat but that didn’t seem to help at all. Bishop Saunders must have known something was going on and had one of the ushers to bring me a cup of water. After gulping down most of the water and I cleared my throat and began with, “I want to thank each and every one of you for coming and sharing your kindness and condolences with me and my family during this time of sorrow.” Clearing my throat and taking another sip of water, I continued, “As most of you already know, she wasn’t just my mother but she was also my best friend. I know she loved me, I know she loved her grandchildren and I also know that she loved God. You know, as I stand here with tears rolling down my face, I remember coming home from school one day, I was about twelve years old and this bully in our neighborhood had beaten me up. I don’t even remember why but I remember crying all the way home and people in the neighborhood pointed and laughed at me calling me a big cry baby. Some of the older brothas in the neighborhood were trying to get me to stop crying because they said, boys don’t cry and the only ones that did were weak. As I stood out on our front porch trying to wipe away the tears so that my mother wouldn’t catch me crying, she had obviously heard something going on outside and came to the door. The more I tried wiping my tears away, the more they flowed. My mother asked me what was wrong and the truth was, I didn’t know whether I was more upset that I got beat up or the fact that people were laughing and pointing at me because I was crying. So I told my mother that I had gotten beat up and people were laughing at me because I was crying. My mother took me inside, wiped away my tears and said, Buster Brown.” At that point, people in the audience began to laugh and so did I. But I continued, “Yes, she called me Buster Brown and to this day, I’m not sure as to why but she called me that all the way up until the time I received my law degree. Anyway, that day, she hugged me and told me don’t ever be ashamed to show your emotions even if it means to cry. It takes a real man to express that kind of emotion whether your happy or sad. So don’t allow anyone to make you think less of yourself for showing your emotions, you understand me. All I could say was, yes ma’am.” As the tears continue to flow down my face and much to my surprise, I received a thunderous round of applause from the congregation. At that point, I thought I would end my speech, so I took my seat and listened to Bishop Saunders delivered a eulogy that would make Satan himself, repent.
§§§§§§
My mother never wanted to be buried in a grave because she said she never wanted anyone walking over her grave. So, I picked out a beautiful mausoleum located at Sharon Memorial Park Cemetery and it stood about fifteen feet above ground and overlooked a pond. At the time, I thought my mother would love being so high in the air because I got the top slot. However, as my family and I stood there watching them put my mother in her final resting place, the only thing I could think of was, I would need a latter just to feel her slot or to even talk to her. I now wished that I had chosen a slot closer to the ground.
Chapter 2
Six Months Later
James
It’s been 6 months since I buried my mother and things seemed to be getting back to normal. My kids stayed with me longer than I thought they would. Now, that’s not a bad thing but thank God they’re grown and live their own lives because James Jr. stayed for about a month, Valerie stayed a couple of weeks and baby girl Michelle just left a week or so ago. She took off a semester from school thinking that I needed her to take care of me. So as much as I love my kids, they can be a handful. For whatever reason, James Jr. and baby girl Michelle don’t get along at all. They argue constantly and can never agree on anything. Most times, I just try to stay out of it because they’re grown and I expect them to act like it and come to some common ground.
As for my daughter Valerie, she’s very controlling like me. I never realized how difficult it can be living with someone just like you. I never tried to argue with any of my kids because I knew at some point they were going to be leaving soon and I knew they were only trying to be there to comfort me in my time of need. So I only tried to keep the peace and let things flow as smoothly as possible. I love them dearly, but thank God, they’re gone and I somewhat have my own life back.
Being 51 in this lifestyle isn’t like it used to be when I was twenty five. Back then, I had more energy and I was in law school, studied all day, came back to my dorm, took a quick nap, ate and partied all night long. My motto was, “Sling all day and all night.” Now, I can barely keep my eyes open past midnight and my motto has become, “If you can get it up, you can have it.” However, the good thing is, I’m ok with that. I don’t think I would turn back the hands of time if I could. Mainly because, I was stupid back then, now, I’m older and wiser. My mother used to say, “There’s no fool like an old fool” may she rest in peace.
I guess the hardest thing at my age and being in this life style is to find someone in my age category, that’s fit, care about their appearance, single and self sufficient. What I would like to find is someone who can bring the same thing to the table as I do. I don’t ask anyone anything that I can’t give myself. Yes, I have a lot of love to give and I’m definitely ready to settle down but until then, a brotha still got needs. Maybe not as often, but they do exist.