In the beginning, our relationship was about as smooth as the roughest side of coarse sandpaper. We were standing on opposite ends of something that had no resemblance to friendship, with our backs to each other. We had two things in common: the friendship of an extraordinary man who had seduced both of our hearts and our relationships with God. For years, we went back and forth in an unnecessarily nasty dance of tug of war. I wish I could say our words were civil, but they were not. I wish I could say that I acted like an adult, but I did not. She was my nemesis and I was hers. There was not even a fleeting glimpse of a any kind of truce in our futures. Looking back on it, I can now say that my behavior was highly inappropriate and immature. She was the only one who acted like an adult between the two of us. Ocelia would later call me a “formidable woman,” a title that I accepted from her as a sincere compliment. The truth was, she was the powerful force in both her words and her actions. She lived life without apologies, gave generously from her heart and if she spoke to you in anger, her words landed like glowing, red embers that singed anything they touched, including the heart.
One day, I called my friend only to find that she was once again visiting him for a few days. I needed some Motrin 800 to ease my monthly “cramps from hell” and my friend kept extra Motrin on hand. He told me to come get a few of them and as he lived only five minutes away from me, I jumped in my car and rode over to get them. Abut 100 feet from his apartment building, I had a car accident. He and Ocelia heard the crash from inside of his apartment. My car’s air bag deployed and in an effort to shield my face from the explosion of the air bag, I threw my hands up. I received slight burns on my wrists. Now, I was in more pain and still had cramps. I got out of my car and my friend came toward me, “I had a feeling it was you who had crashed,” he said as he made sure I was alright. No one was badly hurt. This is where the story takes a turn…
Ocelia came out of his apartment and said she would give me a ride home. Now, I felt sad and ashamed. Her mother had recently died and since my mother had passed away too, I knew the impact of that kind of loss. I felt like we had something in common. I would ask my friend to wish her a happy birthday on her birthday every year in June. It was strange, but my gesture was sincere. She used to laugh because later I would always call a day early and on a few occasions, I reminded her “boyfriend” who always claimed he had not forgotten.
The ride she gave me to my home on the day of my car accident was the start of our friendship. She asked me if I had some Epsom salts to soak in and I did. With a gentle empathy in her voice, she asked me if I needed anything and I started to cry. I apologized to her for my behavior and told her that I had been very unkind to her without good reason. She was gracious and accepted my apology and then she apologized to me. She said I had not acted alone. I smiled through my tears as we laughed at the fact that our male friend would now have to come to terms with our new friendship.
Our relationship evolved slowly with a phone call every once in a while and then we would talk with each other every day. I learned a lot about her and she learned a lot about me. We were able to laugh about the tug of war we participated in and we were even able to complete our pasts by sharing what each of us had been thinking as we tugged. I found myself at ease as I shared intimate parts of my life with her. We frequently looked back on our history and agreed that nothing but God’s Grace could have brought us together as friends. We called it “His Miracle.”
On my darkest days, I would call her, feeling alone and severely mistreated and she would pray for me. She reminded me on every single phone call how special I was and that I made God smile every time I performed my random acts of kindness. She loved to hear my stories and she enthusiastically shared her amazement at the things I had accomplished in my life. On every call, she reminded me of my worth and my talents. She stood guard over my heart and scolded me for not standing up for myself when I was deeply hurt by the actions of some of the people I called my friends. I could talk openly with her and she would not judge me. All of this was more amazing when you consider that she had undergone extensive back surgery and even though she was in pain, had to learn to walk again and could no longer work, she never complained. Ocelia remained a loyal child of God. She did not question her circumstances because she knew God had a reason for everything. She had the faith of a mustard seed. She would give me Bible verses to read to restore my inner peace and we frequently prayed for each other. After a while, we would not hang up the phone without saying, “I love you.” The only other woman I had that arrangement with was my mother. If Ocelia or I forgot to say it, we would call back.
Our conversations were never shorter than an hour. She used to call herself a “dinosaur” because she was not interested in technology, but loved to watch the news and fill me in on the latest. I would teach her about facebook, Instagram, Twitter, the internet and the rest of the social media world. She was a good student and laughed about her lack of knowledge. I assured her that I would not leave her behind.
A few months ago, she told me that she was going to move down south to live with her sister and be closer to her nephew. I cried after we hung up. She later assured me that we would still talk on the phone and nothing would change between us. I took her promise as truth and it made me feel better. If I called her and she did not answer, she would call me back. Never out of touch for more than a few days, we often talked for hours.
Ocelia was my gift. I don’t know if I would be here now, if it had not been for her. Sometimes, I was so consumed by sadness about the circumstances and relationships in my life that I could not fix, that I could barely stand the emotional weight. All I wanted to do was sleep. She could sense me trying to disappear and she would not let me do it. She called me and left messages and then she would get mad when I didn’t call her back for a few days and threaten to stop calling me, she never did stop calling.
She moved back to North Carolina and we continued to talk, but there was something different in her voice. She was happy with her cataract surgery, but she sounded tired like the weight she had carried for so long had started to take a toll on her. She would still ask me how I was doing and I would make her laugh with my stories. I assured myself that she was just tired. I told her that I knew she was a fighter and not to give up.
I hadn’t heard from her for a few days and I had called several times. I even left a message for her to call me back or else…still no return phone call so I called this morning and she didn’t answer. I called right back while I was driving and someone picked up the phone, but said nothing. I said “hello” and then she answered back. I was so happy to have finally reached her and she said, “Who is this?” I thought she was joking around so I laughed and said, “This is Teresa. Who is this?” She said, “This is Gaye, Ocelia’s sister. You must not know. Ocelia died on March 19th.”
I kept driving, but I could not speak. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. I kept my eyes on the road and held my breath in an effort to ease the shock. There was a long silence and then I said all I could muster, “Thank you” and I disconnected the call. My mind had to catch up to what I had just heard. What?!? I just talked to her and I have been leaving messages and…that is why she never me called back. I cried all the way to North Hills. I took a woman who is blind to her church service and waited to take her back home. I sat in the church parking lot crying as people pulled up, parked their cars and walked past me to go into the church. I could not stop crying. My only temporary peace came in watching the tall, green trees sway back and forth in the warm morning breeze. I sat in the church lot for three hours with tears cascading down my face. My heart was beating fast and my head was pounding. I kept thinking that she must have known and did not want to tell me. As was the case with my mom and my oldest brother, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Ocelia.
Ocelia left me with lots of extraordinary gifts, the most priceless ones being her devoted friendship and the memories we made together. I remember how excited she would get when I wrote a short story and how tickled she got when I told her that when I posted my stories to facebook, I would get over 100 likes ( I had to explain the whole facebook thing to her, but I didn’t mind). I told her I was going to write our story and that made her happy. Well, Ocelia, I kept my promise and though I cried with every key stroke, you will never be forgotten because now you have a story too. “Goodbye, my dearest friend. Hug Al for me. Oh yea and before I hang up one last time…I love you.”
4/9/17
T.A.P. into the Possibilities 