How Can I Say Thank You, Dear Friend?

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"How can I say thank you...

Dear Jean, Shirley, and Mona:

The urgency to pen this kind of retrospective narrative still startles me.  Thankfully, its infrequency eases my discomfort because, as the lyrics intone, "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday."  Metaphorically,  this farewell began decades ago when I first met Cleola Burns Crawford, Cousin-in-Law.  

"Cleo," as I came to call her, and my cousin, Alex grew up in Mississippi, where they met at a church service.  Theirs represented quite a love story.  She was a teenager; he'd just enlisted in the Military.  That didn't stop him from expressing his forever love, however.  Alex asked Cleo to wait for him until she was of age and he'd completed his military service so they could marry.  She agreed. Years later, they reunited in Chicago, subsequently wed, and lived happily thereafter. 

Thousands if not millions have wondered, "How can I thank you..." after a tragic event occurs.  Silently or otherwise, we've speculated how we'd do it in talks with others under myriad conditions and circumstances.  For most people,  answers don't come easily.  For others like me,  answers may prove even more difficult to articulate.  Still, "How can I thank you, precious Cleola," issued immediately from my mouth after the, "No! Oh my goodness, no!" when I learned your remarkable Mother had died.  

(I realize "died" often conveys a harshness that"transitioned" or "passed away" denies.  However, since I still grieve the loss of my daughter Courtney, neither word could capture the finality of our loss).  So it is that I write to you as a member of a sorority where no one seeks membership.  And yet, our tears blend all the while, because I understand each of us grieves differently.

I was a child when "Cleo" and I first met.  Decades passed before I understood why it happened.  Her "brand" informed my formative years when seeds were planted and nurtured.  She mentored me long before the term entered our community's lexicon. To be accurate, Cleo entered my life through Mother, whose sister had become Cleo's mother-in-law when she and Alex married.  

I think I understand why Cleo and Mother met. Your Grandmother didn't particularly like Cleo and had only reluctantly welcomed her into the family. As importantly, Mother knew her Sister and consequently, did her best to blunt the subtle rejection, which reflected a rejection nonetheless.  (Isn't it amazing how "dirty laundry" gets hung out when a death occurs)! Nonetheless, I considered myself the true beneficiary of the whispered, grown-up "family stuff."  

No matter! Literally from the moment we met, I held Cleo in awe as the most beautiful, poised, and graceful woman I'd ever met.  How can I thank Cleo enough for being a grownup who listened with heart and ears to an inquisitive kid?  Cleo appeared to value my half-formed opinions and always listened thoughtfully as I asked the basic questions that only a nine-year-old little girl could form.  Sometimes she answered a question with a question although usually, she answered me directly.

How can I thank Cleo for opening the door to professional options that her ownership of a beauty salon represented to an impressionable Black girl? The first Black businesswoman I ever knew, her risk-taking and business acumen shouted "The sky's the limit" to my young ears.  Significantly, Cleo's artistry brought out the inner beauty she "saw" in clients who left her shop with stunning hairstyles and artfully blended makeup. The secret? Cleo loved people, reveled in using her skills and talents, and sought to showcase the joy that often lies dormant within.

Undeniably, Cleo's love of God reflects spiritual wisdom and strength, the legacy she bequeaths to so many of us.  A licensed missionary and "Good Samaritan," she worked as easily with total strangers as with whom she later became friends.  Most of all, Cleo's life shines as a beacon of love that reflects wisdom, compassion, kindness, resilience, patience, strength, and encouragement.  A virtuous woman, indeed!

I know that the three of you deeply mourn the gift of Cleola Burns Crawford: mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother, keeper-of-secrets, and trusted friend.  Believe me, in the days and years to come, you will thank Our Father even more for His perfect and loving gift to you.