For Christine

I attended a funeral today…and left smiling.

I woke on a sunny Southern California Saturday and knew I had a duty to represent my Family tribe at my Niece’s Mother’s service. I had only met her Mother twice (and my memory isn’t what it once was) but I did remember I enjoyed our conversation in those brief encounters. I knew no one so I sat in the back (being the shy person I  am) and waited for the service to begin.

I sat and wondered to myself what we would have had in common…this, petite, black woman, almost 65 who struggled through the 60’s to keep her own identity and vision for the future in place. I’m a tall, blond, white woman in her 40’s, who struggles with chocolate biscuits, ever changing techie stuff and the right aperture for the shot of the moment.

As I watched each person come up to speak about Christine, I  began to realize what an opportunity I had missed in not knowing this articulate, creative whirlwind of a woman who’s entire life served the common man. She championed the poor, she help guide the misled, she inspired those who would have given up too soon. She  raised a family of bright, caring children and taught a husband the wisdom of being friends first, spouses second. My Niece got up to read a poem written in her Mother’s honor (Mama Tina), then sang a song that made me weep…because I didn’t even know she sang.

But it was the video made of Christine coming out from her cubicle at work, dancing… and in turn getting others to join in a make-shift cha-cha line that made me laugh out loud at her free spirit. With her snapping fingers raised overhead and her pixey grin…I saw a kindred spirit…though I dance in my office towards the corner… so no one can see me:)

God Speed your journey Christine

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2 Responses to “For Christine”

  1. cynthia elders Says:

    Thank you, Heather, love, big sis

  2. […] familiar to me. Suddenly, it dawned on me she was the mother of my niece (my nephew’s wife). Chris was a lovely, free spirited woman and as I watched a young mother explaining about the alter to her […]

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