More glad than sad.

 Cause you were my sister

my strength, and my pride
Only God may know why

still I will get by 

~ from the soundtrack "Set It Off"

___________________________________________

This morning, me and reality had a brawl. He grabbed me by my neck and tried as hard as he could to wrestle me to the ground. I was almost down for the count, but then I did one of those moves where you roll on your back, push up into a handstand with your extended arms until your arched body flies up into the air and lands on its feet again. I landed in a Karate Kid stance, for real.

Ready to fight. At least as much as I could.

Yesterday was mostly good. In fact, it was more than mostly good. Our family had dinner together at one of Deanna's favorite restaurants. We hugged and laughed and a few times we cried. But it was okay. Yeah. Mostly it was okay.

We went into her home yesterday. Some part of me was conflicted about that. I struggled with this idea of looking through things and for things and kept trying not to feel like I was invading her privacy. Then a peace washed over me, telling me: She was your sister. She trusted you all. You must do this. And so we did. Me and Will and JoLai and Daddy. We did.

That was hard. And no, it wasn't like we went and tried to do a big cleaning/clearing job but just going in there and seeing so many signs of her life was hard. Crocheted projects that weren't quite done. The DELTA journal lying on a table. Photographs of all of us and all of her friends and nieces and nephews and. . . yeah. It felt like we'd interrupted her mid-sentence. That part hurt.

One day, a few years ago, Deanna and I were sitting in my sunroom talking. A sorority sister had passed away and Deanna said, "I wonder who got all of her Delta items? Like the secret things like official books and her sorority pin? And even her Delta t-shirts?"

"Good question," I replied. "I'm sure she had someone she trusted to do that. Don't you think?"

"Well, I hope so. Because one time someone sent me a picture of some old dude mowing a lawn with a Delta Sigma Theta t-shirt on!"

"Maybe he was a Delta," I laughed.

"Uuuhh, no." We cackled a bit and then she said, "Hey. Look, if something ever happens to me, make sure you go in and get my books and my sorority pin, okay? I'm for real."

"I'll be senile by then but I'll see what I can remember."

"I'm not joking."

"I know! But okay. I promise, I will. And you get mine, okay?"

"It's a deal."

And I swear to you that just as sure as I sit at this table typing this, we had that conversation. And I'm glad we did because it felt like marching orders. Which I kind of needed.

The problem is, Deanna wasn't prepared for me to need to find those things. So she hadn't left me a map. They weren't in the obvious places. Her jewelry box didn't have her pin. Her Delta tote bags didn't have her confidential sorority books. So I looked. And looked. I checked dresses to see if the pin had been left affixed. I scouted out boxes and her car.

No such luck.

I was digging through what felt like the umpteenth jewelry case and still not seeing her official pin. And since I hadn't found the books either, all of it welled up in me like some kind of vicious tsunami of grief. I fought back, scouring, picking, sifting with even more tenacity. I was talking to myself. Coaching myself to think and find what my marching orders told me to find. This was my duty. I had to find those things. So I kept chanting to myself until my voice started becoming a pleading whimper in her closet. Saying over and over, "Pin. Where are you? Pin. Where would you be? Please God. Where. Where?"

And thank God JoLai was there and overheard me in the closet. She came and put her hands on my shoulders and rested her head on my back. "Stop. It's okay, Kimberly," she said quietly. "It's okay."

I stopped then and just wept. I wept and wept over her elephant necklaces and African violet corsages. Over lapel pins with rhinestone-encrusted Greek symbols all reminding me of her love and commitment to her sorority. To our sorority. And  I just let myself have that moment.

Delta was something Deanna and I shared. Just us. We're the only ones in our immediate family who pledged Delta, so we have many, many memories not just as blood sisters but as Delta sisters, too.

So losing that part of her is hard, too. Unbelievably so, because she was one of the most invested Delta women I've ever known. In fact, I just found this on my desktop from a nomination letter I wrote about her for a sorority award back in 2009. It started like this:

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"I would like to take this opportunity to tell you about the best Delta I know.  In my nearly 17 years in Delta, there is no soror who has had a greater impact on me.  This is interesting, considering I was made nearly six years earlier than she."

Pretty cool, huh? Aaaah. Such provisions.

She is still the best Delta I know. Not even kidding. 

Speaking of provisions--that just made me think of something. Isn't it a lovely provision that just last month, I would dedicate an entire post to our black college experience -- including an explanation behind African-American sorority/fraternity ties? And for those who would not have known of this world at all -- you understand now. You know what kind of lifelong commitments these organizations are for us and, perhaps, you just might have some insight on what I must have been feeling.

See? That was another provision. God knew that I'd need you to understand. Not just those of you who share cultural similarities and experiences with me, but every single one of you in this community. And I needed you to understand because I've needed your support.

So. . . .yeah.

Shortly before we left, JoLai lifted up some half-crocheted masterpiece and saw a notebook underneath. "What's this, Kimberly? Are these the books you were looking for?"

And I turned and looked. Squinting carefully and opening it quietly. The first thing I saw was her own calligraphy in the inside of the cover:

Deanna Draper
April 3, 1998

It was her name and her date of initiation. And it was exactly what I was looking for. I pulled it to my chest and cried tears of relief. I was so happy to have at least one of those items in my own two hands just as she'd requested. The whole room fell quiet as I hugged those books and released my ugly cry. Because I needed that moment. I needed to be my sister's keeper.

"Hey, check this out!"  JoLai handed me a picture.  It was a photo of a friend of Deanna's from way back in middle school--who was incarcerated at the time the photo was taken.

"What the hell?" I said.

"There's also a four page handwritten letter he sent with it." JoLai looked at me with a mischievous smirk. She tried not to laugh but the corner of her mouth kept twitching. Will looked over at it and then said the dude's name--which I won't say here.

"Seriously, Deanna?" Will chimed in.

"That was just Deanna. She always kept the light on for people," I said.

"In other words, she was friend hoarder, too." JoLai and I laughed.

"What in the world does that mean?" Will wanted to be in on the joke.

"It's when you don't get rid of any friends. You just collect and collect them without turning any of them loose. Even if they're a convicted felon."

We tried not to laugh at first but then erupted into a hearty laugh -- together. That made us feel a little better. It did. Because this idea of Deanna including people -- and even encouraging someone who was in a lonely place -- was so her.

That was her way. That was Dee.

We took a few special things. And then we left.

Check out this hat she'd completed. I bet it was inspired by Zachary's football games. Ha.

Only Deanna. (So gonna be wearing that next year.) She also made this poster for Zachary's last game. He reminded me of this yesterday and asked if I would paint him a poster next year.

Damn. I feel the same way, Zachary. Almost seems like he knew something, huh? Told you those kids have a sixth sense.

Anyways.

That championship game with her there is a fond memory. Man. She was cheering so loudly that she embarrassed the shit out of us. There was no shutting her up, y'all. She was in DOLBY STEREO, do you hear me? I'm talking LOUD. Which, now, I love because it makes me laugh out loud to think of it. And it also makes me realize that my sister always, always lived -- and loved -- OUT LOUD.

So with that in mind, my motto continues to be the one I've said since waking up on Friday morning:

"More glad than sad."

More glad that I knew her and had a close relationship with her than sad because of some missed opportunity. More glad that I found her Delta books than sad that I haven't yet found her Delta pin. And more glad that I can't think of a single thing I neglected to tell her that I wish I could now. . . .  than sad that I didn't. Because I didn't hold back. I told her constantly how much she meant to all of us.

See?

It's okay. Provisions were made. I was being prepared for this moment even when I didn't know it was going to happen. That comforts me. It does.

And speaking of comfort. Now for more pictures, okay?

Deanna's line-number was three. So was Zachary's football number. Kind of special, huh?

 One of her closest friends in the sorority, Stacey, was also #3.  This image is for you, Stace.  And I just thought about something--I'm #33. So that counts, right?

Deanna and her fellow "#3s" always loved saying: "Three's Rule."

Yeah, man. Sisters pretty much rule.

I've said it before, but I will say it again. Thanks. For being here with me today and for reading and replying and holding my hand. This counts. It does. It is what I need at this moment and I believe in my heart of hearts that this blog was also a provision. And for that, I am so thankful.

Today. Now. Forever. Sure, I will always be a tiny bit sad. But that will get swallowed in my own tsunami of glad. Because me? I knew Deanna. And I'm forever changed for it. For that, my friends, I shall always be. . . . . . .more glad than sad.

***
Happy Wednesday. Thanks for all the "Go Wild" photos you've posted and emailed me, too. Stay tuned for that post. :)

Now playing on my mental iPod. A song that is a little sad, but it is helping me today. Thank you Ms. Gladys, Ms. Brandy, Ms. Chaka and Ms. Tamia for ministering to me today. Maybe they'll do the same for you even if it leads to an ugly cry.



One last "ah hah moment" that I just had:

This song was from the sound track of a movie called "Set it Off."  Guess what? That was Deanna's Linename--and her Big Sister Name--"Big Sister Set it Off."  So I guess this song isn't just for this  sister -- but all of her other ones, too. Provisions. . . .