"I'd never dreamed you'd leave...in summer"
I thought she'd go and come back home..
She always did, she'd do something crazy, overdose, fall out, bleeding profusely, wheezing, exhaustion, I mean the works. Next I'd hear this incredibly outlandish story about how she has pulled the i.v. from her arm and swatted one of the orderlies to sign herself out...she'd be out of commission for a few days and then I'd get a call on my voicemail: "chan-pooh! come get yo auntie from the hospital."
Just as SURE as my name is Frances Morgan she was asking me to not only take her to the liquor store but to borrow her a "couple few dollars" to get her some beer and as of late--gin.
She never forgot to pay me back.
I imagine darkness to be a loud place, with emaciated mongrels attacking each molecule of your fiber and ravenous vapors tearing thru your pores. When you scream, no one hears you, they bother not to care. Ive seen the highs: head back, mouths open, eyes glazed over a temporary paradise accompanied by slurred speech and adoration like silk..isolation, then emptiness.
Laketha was quiet when she wasnt drunk or high; calming unnoticed and rather refined, a rather organized operating user. She paid her bills, never went out of the house without: "looking good smelling good and turning heads.."
"Chan-pooh make sure your shirt matches your shoes and if you have a belt make sure it matches your purse"
"Chan-pooh get you a paper bag and dont sit on that ground and mess up your clothes!"
"If you wanna sit next to me, you better learn to start eating with your mouth closed"
""Chan-pooh..you know you auntie's baby right?"
She helped me understand who I was and where I came from, accepted me for who, what, whichever size dark brown eyes, thick thighs..even uncharacterized sometimes. I can still smell the Charlie or Jovan White if I close my eyes and wish real hard..
When my own mother didnt want me, she did.
But when she got drunk and I was old enough to understand it I became embarrassed by her, wanted nothing to do with her, couldnt get far enough away from her, the woman who loved me regardless of my sin, and honestly when she spoke she left no space for bullshit to fit in.
Ugly truths were her specialty, whether or not you wanted to hear was not of her concern accompanied by every "muthafuck you's and so sues me's you could imagine.
But dont get me wrong all the times werent bad though, I found my rhythm at age six in my grandmothers kitchen because she wouldnt let it rest, so while my grandmother is fussing about all the reasons I should be asleep, I'm doing the best "whop" of my life as entertainment for my auntie and her friends.
There was a difference with her and I; it was like I was the sun in her blue sky, no one ever really questioned why, they just knew that for life that it'd be I as hers and she as mine.
She NEVER forgot a birthday, even if we didnt always remember hers. What I wouldnt give for that last message I deleted from my voicemail because I could barely understand her words thru a drunken madness.."HAPPY BIRTH.."I'M ON THE DAMN PHONE. TONY SHUT UP!"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY CHAWN-POOH, AUNTIE LUD DAT BAAA-BB-Y!"
loud clanging of receiver, her cussing wondering if she hung up the phone, and finally--silence.
We never failed to notice that things were getting harder, the yellow eyes and swollen belly, the darkening skin and weightloss, I cant count how many times I dropped my son, Gregory off to find cocaine tubes.. I shoved them in my pocket and threw them down the sewers each and every time.
I was always convinced that she was just a drunk.
we blindly ignored and accepted it was just who she was. we just knew that she was gonna live forever, her self proclaimed fear of death exclamation: " I'm gon live to be two hundred and sixty five!"
we believed her.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 changed my life forever.
I got a call from Laketha's son, Nakia, my cousin brother impatiently demanding that I come to clean our grandmother because Auntie, his mother had passed out and the ambulance was taking her away, may stories to follow, "she had been hit or that she was sick, the last time someone saw her was when they left her on the porch.."
I came begrudgingly to find a grandmother soaked in urine in bed weeping that she had been forgotten about, so after cleaning her up completely and calming her down and changing her sheets, I managed to calm Nakia down and convince the cops not to take him away based on his attitude alone.
There was a silent calm that hung in the house, because we just knew that they would wake her up, and then she'd be calling to come home within the next few days...
not so.
Everything else following these event are a bit hazy because all I remember most is sitting in my grandmothers house, my cousin telling me to go to the hospital, I myself thinking I can handle it and seeing her hooked up to almost anything they can connect her to, while the nurses are looking at me like something heavy's about to drop.
Im shaking, I'm screaming but I refuse to cry because I KNOW this is not for real, because if it is I have to come to terms, terms I'd never signed a contract for, terms that said in bright bold print: ACCEPT THIS! SHE IS NOT A SUPER HERO! SHE IS HUMAN!
so picture this: youre staring at a woman who made you the person you are you have to lie and tell the doctors that youre her daughter because youre family is unable to be right there by your side, for christ's sake can someone wipe this blood off of her face? WHY are you people looking at me like this? where is the doctor? I need to call my family members? WHAT is wrong with her? Someone please give me some answers...this is not a drill!!!!
They seat you and your sister and fathers girlfriend in a room--to wait.
and wait.
and wait.
"She's going to die." doctor looks me square in the eyes. "too much blood has pooled outside of her brain, and she's had a stroke, if we operate she will be mentally unable and honestly theres not much left to do other than say your good byes.."
"We see that she has high blood pressure and we've found cocaine in her system.."
nieces seated at the edge of her bed crying..and all i feel is anger!
"How dare you auntie, GOTDAMN YOU AUNTIE!"
not more than 6 months before; she told me to make sure that she wears yellow and that when she dies she dont want nobody crying, she want us to have a damn ball!
that night i went home in so much shock that i felt 6 again, i couldnt shake that thought of her lying there on life support so I slept with all the lights on.
swollen skull, high blood pressure, cocaine and alcohol levels skyrocketed, stroke, cirrhosis..
braindead. 52 years old.
the days to follow were much too disturbing and unfair to comprehend. searching for a final outfit, not being able to get to the funeral home to do her hair, paint her nails, viewing a body wrapped in what looked to be a garbage bag... praying at my grandmothers bedside while she chants: "Laketha done gone off to glory.."
rocking back and forth adding her third lost daughter to this story.
"please put her hair in shirley temple curls..she always wore it that way.."
not that day, not that way, not this woman. final day of life, son is pleading thru tears, "just wake the fuck up mama..."
organs too bad for anyone to put to use.
my last memory of kissing her warm cheek and whispering, "I love you my auntie..."
my mother asking me thru accepted tears and a smile, "when did YOU get so strong?"
V100 plays, K-jons, "cause out there on the ocean, ive been waiting too long for this moment, my ship has finally come.."
I remember Frankie Beverly and Mazes':
"Before I let you---goooo-ooooo-o-ooooo-o i would neva neva neva neva let you go before i know.."
May 19, 2009 12:20pm
Laketha Annette Morgan-
mother daughter sister friend auntie cousin to the very end
cherished and adored human being.
addict.
Rest In Peace.
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