It's been a couple of months since my last posting. For those of you who have been checking back frequently hoping to find my latest musings, thanks for your patience. You probably noticed that I haven't written as regularly lately. It's been a difficult year for me emotionally. I haven't really been the same since the death of my best friend, Bruce Weathersby, last November.
The first anniversary of his passing is this Saturday. Bruce departed his earthly life on November 3, 2006. As the date has approached, I've found myself slipping in and out of the doldrums. The most difficult moment, so far, coming as I walked through the Atlanta airport between flights a couple of weeks ago when it hit me that I had travelled to see Bruce-- for what would be the last time-- a year earlier that weekend. A wave of emotion came over me and I nearly collapsed in tears right in the middle of Concourse C.
Now, I must face this coming weekend and the painful memory of receiving a phone call from another of my brothers, Rudy Williams, to inform me that Bruce was gone. I have talked with Rudy on a regular basis over the last year, mostly because he's such a good friend that he calls to check on me periodically. That's not to say that other friends haven't done the same. Karl, Gilbert, Kerry, Vanessa, Tre', Kat, Debora, Karen, Pam, Angee, Condace, Meta and others have all been WONDERFUL with their friendship, love, and support. But Rudy took on the burden of making that phone call last November 3 knowing that he was about to break my heart as his had been broken a few minutes earlier.
There are those who will read this and wonder why I haven't reached out to them more-- for support or to give it. I hope they understand that this grieving process has been one of the most difficult ever for me. You're never ready to accept a loved one's death. I've lost three grandparents, an aunt, a great-grandparent, and a great-aunt in my lifetime. I was close with each of them. When God called them home, it was hard to accept, but I knew they had each lived long, productive lives-- some, 80-90 years-- and it was their time. Bruce was barely six months past his 40th birthday. I just couldn't understand why he had to leave so soon. I know much more today than I did 12-months ago but dealing with the new knowledge hasn't made accepting and coping any easier.
Anyway, let me end this by saying that I'm back and plan to post much more regularly again. After all, this blog-- while not originally created as such-- is a tribute to my dear friend and brother, Bruce. For, as I wrote in the very first posting, I stole the catchy phrase that is this blog's title from him.
Oh, Good Evening!