Recorded Emotions
Recorded Emotions Curtis Johnson
With me, there were word sounds and expressions of grief upon being informed of the passing of a family member. Each family member's passing ignited a sound, brief words, or simply a voiceless stillness that seemed to identify the emotion of the moment unique to each one. Sometimes, not a word, but like a quick gush of wind, that blows over you with a deep gush of sorrow, tears, and strong crying. These are unforgettable moments of unforgettable emotions, about unforgettable loved ones.
Case in point:
In May of 1963, at the age of 13, I was playing with a cousin nearby, when a friend of my father informed me that my father had just passed. My best describtion of what I recall feeling at that moment was a 'cloud of mystery and bewilderment'.
Case in point:
In October of 1973, I was at work in Chicago when I received a call from Mississippi that my dear grandmother had just passed. The emotion that I most recall was a deep feeling of sadness and disappointment.
Case in point: The death of my mother in March of 1998. I was at work in route from Stockton, heading North to Sacramento, Ca. This was before the popularity and affordability of cell phones. My pager sounded, and at the next exit I pulled off the freeway and called my office. When my supervisor said that I should call home right away, I knew that that the news was not good. I phoned home, and at the end of the line was my wife who informed me of the passing of my mother 2000 miles away in Chicago. Til now, I remember what I felt and what I said. There was a calming, a numbing, and a pausing. Then I quietly said, Mama's gone". "Those were the first words I uttered when informed of mama's death.
Case in point: The death of my oldest sister in 1999. I received a call from a younger sister stating that our sister would not survive the head injury she incurred from being hit by a vehicle. She was all but brain dead at the time. Realizing her impending death, all words ceased, and I went ballistic. A deep gush of grief and sorrow overwhelmed me with loud crying, and I could barely breathe.
Case in point:
The death of an older brother who was one and a half years my senior. In the Spring of 2003, a call came from St. Louis, informing my wife of my brother's death. I was very subdued as a numbing silence swept over me; and the only words I remember uttering were, "Oh Calvin".
Case in Point:
In December of 2003, a call came informing me that a younger sister in Indiana had passed away. My grief was deep with a silence of sadness with not a word.
Case in point:
Word came in November of 2012 that another younger sister of mine had passed away. I was fortunate enough to have spent some quality time with her earlier the summer of that year. I was with her as she battled for her life during hospice care. Although the doctor had given her very little hope of survival, she seemed to be on the winning side when my wife and I departed to return home. Four months later, she died. When I received the fateful call of her demise, all that I could utter was, "Huh". It was a grunt of bewilderment. It was a grunt that essentially said, " O Lord, I thought she was going to beat that cancer". I could not speak my grunt, but God read my spirit and understood every word. "Huh".
Case in point: A call came from a sister in October of 2013, informing me that our oldest brother had passed. I do not remember any spoken words of emotion. There was a quiet sense of death's reality. That's not to say there was any form of fear; just a calm sense of acceptance. The reality that we all will someday depart this life. 04082017cjPS
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