Once A Man, Twice A Boy “Once a man, twice a boy”, he said. I now know what he was trying to say. As we sat and stared into space together, I thought more about it and wanted to know more, wanted to know what he was thinking or focusing on. I felt if I asked, I would somehow be intruding on his uncharted waters. As I watched him stare so wonderful, I could see the etches of his face. The feeling of him putting his life in order but had one more thing to do. I said Dad, it is okay to let go if you want. He said, No, not yet, the girls and Lee…than another story would begin. I would listen to many more. We would talk on the phone. He would start out, “Daddy would…” On my last visit he was in the hospital. As I speeded down the highway, all I could think of his stories, time and what to say to him. I entered into his room and saw how tired he was. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree with all the presents of joy. As we watched each other, I found the message in the mist of it all. I am almost ready to go. He drifted off like a ship at sea. As if the sails were down for the night, just drifting, waiting for the breeze. I went with the silences in the room. I glazed upon his face for answers, only to remember the green rose…that green rose. This time he was watching me. As we held hands he looked at me, one more time and I hummed the old Negro songs. As I did so he drifted off to sleep, as if the winds began to blow, I saw the lines of long ago history fall from his face. I notice that he was breathing peaceful and he was at rest. I hummed the old spiritual songs and I could feel his face. At the point I knew he was with family, family he had missed so long ago. He knew it too but he wanted to take that trip home just one more time. For a brief period, he open his eyes, looked at me smiled, I felt his presence lighten and ready for flight. I hummed some more, knowing that any day now Dad would be going home. He had more stories to tell and this one brought tears to both our eyes. His stories to me were his way of expressing the closing of chapters in his life. As I touch his face, I said. “Past is long gone and let it go and I will forgive you for whatever it is”. He smiled with those wonderful eyes, which seem to say, OK. On Saturday, when I spoke with him on the phone, his last words to me “I love you”. On Tuesday at 4:07am, Sis called to alert me on Dad’s health, it was them time seemed more peaceful. Dad’s journey was after all meeting some of his loves ones, Who I guess by now his story would have started out like, “Hey Mama, Dad, do you remember the time when…”. Somewhere down the line, each of his stories comes to light. Like no history book will enlighten me as his life has, the smiles we shared, and our shared meals together, coming to the Village Church to hear God’s word and so much more. I have been blessed with this Angel of Love. By Bertha Graham, May 27, 2008