A Difficult Trip

I have just returned from one of the most difficult trips of my life. Losing loved ones is a part of life. Unlike other things that get easier to deal with the more they happen, saying goodbye to someone you cherish is always painful. Even when you know the person has lived a full life. I was devastated when Grandpa Woolfolk died in May 1991. I think he was 89 when he made his transition. Nana died eight months later in February 1992. She was 86. Then, there was Grannie's passing. I always used to introduce her as my grandmother only have her quickly correct me by telling the person, "this is my great-grandson." Grannie was actually my mother's grandmother. She was 92 when she passed on. Grandpa Hickey, my mother's father, was 88 when he died. While each of their deaths was individually and particularly painful for me, I was happy they had lived and led long, productive, loving lives.


I helped bury my best friend last Thursday. Like my relatives previously mentioned, Bruce lived and led a productive, loving life. He just didn't get very long to do it. I am truly grateful to have had his friendship, brotherhood, and unconditional love in my life for close to 15 years. I feel cheated that it won't be four times that long.

Bruce and I talked everyday. Sometimes we talked two, three, four, maybe five or more times a day. We just wanted to know that each other was OK. He's gone now and my heart is so heavy with grief because I can't pick up the phone and call just to ask, "what are you doing?" My phone doesn't ring at 1:30 AM anymore with Bruce on the other end asking, "what's up?" in that deep voice of his. I miss him so much.

I'm typing this through tears so I guess it's good therapy. But damn, it's so painful.

Seeing Bruce in his new navy blue suit, white dress shirt, and red bow-tie, laying in a casket less than six months after his 40th birthday was so upsetting. Seeing so many people packed into his mother's church, Stronger Hope Missionary Baptist Church in Jackson, Mississippi, was a blessing and provided great strength to his family and to me as we got through Bruce's services. But the finality of seeing his casket lowered into the ground at Henry Magee Cemetery in Magee, Mississippi was overwhelming. I broke down in the arms of one of Bruce's cousins and wept, "I have to leave him, now."

We were supposed to grow old together. Two best friends with so much in common just enjoying life and each other. I think Bruce knew that wouldn't happen. But rather than shatter my dreams, and those of his numerous other friends and relatives, he just put his all into each day and made sure we all knew how important we were to him.

He was always giving. He rarely took. He was fiercely independent. He carried himself with great dignity and pride. And, he was very loyal to his family and friends, even in times of disagreement.

His passing has left a lot of people in pain. Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, his mom and step dad; his sister Markita; his brothers, Chris and Nick; a host of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews; his many friends, including Gilbert, Karl, Rudy, Curtis, Hilda, Lawrence, Elroy, me and others. It was good having a huge circle of support to get us all through last week. Now comes the hard part-- getting through the rest of our lives without Bruce.

Mrs. Coleman asked me to serve as program guide at Bruce's funeral service. That was hard, but I got through it. Surprisingly, I received several compliments about how nice the service was and how much everyone appreciated the way I led it. Mom's tribute to Bruce was wonderful. She wrote a touching speech about her "baby" and delivered it in a clear, convicted voice. Gilbert and I stood with her for support. She was amazing. Three people sang selections at the service, none more powerful than the performance of Michael Barnes, Bruce's friend from Memphis. The spirit moved when he sang and it brought much needed peace to many in the sanctuary, including me. Friends and former co-workers offered personal tributes. Hilda spoke about knowing Bruce for 25 years. Rudy told everybody how he could call Bruce to ask his opinion about some music and a few days later, the CD Rudy inquired about would be in his mailbox. I shared how much I'll miss taking Bruce home with me to Detroit to attend the annual North American International Auto Show. Bruce loved cars more than I do. His cousin, Linda, from Colorado read an original poem. Then, there was the video tribute to Bruce. A collection of photographs from his childhood through adulthood. Many of them made us laugh. Finally, Rev. R. K. Moore delivered a moving eulogy which left me in tears, but greatly inspired.

Gilbert, Rudy and I all departed Jackson on Sunday. I dropped Rudy off at the airport at 6:30 AM and almost broke down when I hugged him goodbye. I climbed back into my truck and the loneliness hit me immediately. I cried all the way home. Gilbert and I wrapped up our initial work at the house then went to take Mom some important paperwork and the keys to Bruce's beloved Infiniti FX35 which is still in the garage. It was 8:15 AM. When Gilbert and I hugged goodbye, I almost broke down again. I knew I had a long, lonely drive back to Columbia, South Carolina ahead of me.

Thanks to Karl calling and getting Gilbert and Rudy on a four-way conference connection, we were able to spend a good bit of time talking which made the beginnings of the drive nice. Later, I had NFL games on satellite radio to occupy my mind. But when I approached the city of Atlanta, which Bruce and I often visited together, I started to feel a wave of emotion that I was finding difficult to control. I have a few very close friends in Atlanta and I started trying to find one of them who might be available to sit and talk. Condace agreed to meet me at the FOX Sports Grill at Atlantic Station. We sat, ate, and talked for a few hours. Condace knew Bruce, too. She had met him at the NABJ conventions in Orlando, Dallas, and Atlanta. I appreciate her friendship. Her willingness to drop whatever she doing when I called to come meet me was a true sign of love.

I was back on the road around 10:30 PM, made a rest stop about an hour later, then finished my drive arriving in Columbia around 2 AM. I had to text message Rudy that I made it home OK because I haven't found a new phone number for Bruce yet.

Oh, Good Evening.