Lavender Dreams and Remembering You — a tribute
Post time: 3 minuteSTrigger warning: loss and grief
This time last year was really hard. These days, I'm feeling deep and vivid memories. My cousin Jasmine, 5 months my elder was on hospice. I lost my last living grandfather Louis around the same time too. I'll admit I wasn't very close to him, but his legacy is just as strong. I still remember my cousin's text: "Jocelyn if you wanna come see me, you better come soon."
It was a pit in my stomach — unfortunately, anticipated grief. It was the cousin I ran around with growing up. We went on double dates, countless sleepovers, girl talk (lots of it), profiles on AOL and Black Planet — IYKYK (If you know, you know). We used to go hard on karaoke and belt out loud to Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey — Kelly Price too. Our first concert, TLC when Destiny's Child was the opener at the Target Center. She remembered everything and I remembered most things too.
Image circa 1993 family reunion with Jasmine (with the bow) and family in Williams Bay Wisconsin.
Her hair — so thick and free. Her mind, a captivating place. As a child, she was always beautifully done in big bows and dresses to match. She had the softness and strength of her mother and the directness and determination of her father. Her beauty was pronounced. Her beauty was pronounced.
Quote by writer, Morgan Harper Nichols: "And somehow, after everything, she still bloomed in the way she was meant to.”
Our darkness, parallel. We fought hard and loved big. Funny how you can go through similar things but feel and process different things. That’s the vastness of humanity though. There were plenty of judgements we casted on each other. We disagreed — conversely, we showed up when and how we could. We wanted our kids to know and play with each other. We had plans to do life and grow dusty old together.
She loved big and bold. She brought people together. She gave, she gave, and she gave. She made life, her little one, may he always know her name.
The setting of suns
There's this photo of us, 3 or 4 days before she passed. Another visitor, a former neighbor in the backdrop massaging her arm. The oils were soft and delicate. I witnessed Jasmine watch with patience and divinity. Her gaze magnified something so real and beautiful.
At one point, she grew tired and wanted to lay down. I laid next to her. We clenched hands, and I found myself emotional, I took deep breaths — I was sad and scared. Being invited in a room, a bedside where a life is knowingly transforming — shifting — ending carries with it a type of radical silence — a surrendering that no words are fully equipped to occupy.
I asked if she remembered the Spice Girls song, Viva Forever. We loved the Spice Girls, and it was sometimes a battle who got to be scary spice. Never mind the oppression Olympics in the scarcity complex being the one Black girl in the group: alas a Ted Talk for another day.
Image of a “scary spice” leaopard print leaf in nature.
Anyway, I asked if I could play the song. As we held hands and the words flowed, tears flowed too. They swayed out of my eyes in some type of uncharted romance. They dipped softly into the bend of my cheekbones. With humbled sovereignty and a quivered voice, I whispered:
“Viva forever, I’ll be waiting,
Everlasting like the sun
Live forever for the moment,
Ever searching for the one. ”
It was like a streamer of love, the tears, radiating across my skin. As I laid next to her, I clenched her hand close. I told her I loved her; how I thought the world of her.
I told her I'd live on with care and intention. I told her I was going to stop wasting time and let life live on my terms. I told her I wanted to carry what I could of her legacy. I made promises I knew I could keep.
Memories and lavender footprints
Another visit was just a few days before. I told her I was going to make some footprints in the sand and make sure someone else's walk through life wouldn't be as heavy. That I'd pave a way and create something beautiful in her memory. I don't remember everything I said and yet, she thanked me. In a way I saw her experience a profound sense of meaning she left in my life. The ripple effect for those left behind to rewrite time, hope, and convictions for tomorrow. There's something truly stunning about being remembered and it’s shown in the ways people continue to remember her.
Image of flowers left near Jasmine’s grave.
When I talk about creating something beautiful, its remembering to live always. It's taking risks — being bolder — and loving bigger. It’s leaving less words unsaid. To remember to live seems like such a small saying with the magnitude of oceans. It means I'm living in the now — the biggest point of life I can control and bear witness to. Being present. Being connected. Being aware. These days, life in moments and moments in life are more intimate.
If you’ve witnessed this spirit in me, it’s much due to the reminders of how little we actually control time. That time will flow and go through — with — and without us. That love pierces through time to remind us of our ancestors strength —our connections to other life beings — that within us is love's divine. I hold deep gratitude in each breath granted to me. So here’s to living moment by moment — brick by brick.
Image of building art including a type writer and text above: “tell stories that draw people in”
I miss you Jasmine. I still hear your voice. I see you in the clouds. I see you in nature. I see and am holding true to being a piece of your legacy.
Grief is raw and riveting, is it not?
P.s. If you love someone, tell them. If they’re somewhere in the distance (figuratively or real), keep their love close and alive always. Write it down, speak it out, let it all shine. Let it all shine.
The gifts in the message
Love's Divine by Seal (YouTube)
Viva Forever by Spice Girls (YouTube)
Sampha - Jonathan L. Seagull (YouTube)
If I would Have Known by Kyle Hume (YouTube)
To a Queen: Viva Forever (Bolder Joce blog)