Been There, Done That
Page 26
We gathered at church for the children’s pageant. St. James’ was resplendent in poinsettias, wreaths and hay bales for the manger scene. Kids were running everywhere, squealing with excitement. Vicki Hall, the children’s ministry director, was showing her incredible and enviable level of patience and firm control. Vicki knew that my dad was terminally ill and understood the pain I was grappling with that afternoon. She gave me a knowing hug and said quietly, “You’re in our prayers.”
Although I ached all over, my heart felt a flutter of warmth when I saw Leila and Nicky parade down the church aisle with the other children. Leila flashed me a proud smile. At that moment I knew I was in exactly the right place and was where God wanted me to be.
Just after the pageant ended and the cast headed downstairs for a party of cupcakes and punch, my phone buzzed again.
I knew.
Al took the call as we stepped outside the church building into the December chill.
“Honey,” he said in a choked whisper, “your dad is gone.”
We both collapsed in tears on the sidewalk just outside the church.
Today I sometimes still wrestle with the hard choice I made on that winter afternoon. Would I feel any differently if I had rushed to Georgia that afternoon, even if I hadn’t made it in time? Or was it better for me to be in the arms of my family as I processed the heartbreaking loss of my father? Who’s to say what the right choice was?
I have come to realize that we all must follow our hearts and make the decisions we feel are best in the moment. Looking back doesn’t change a thing. What matters is finding peace with your judgment. I am grateful that I had time with Dad before his passing and felt his love one last time. Some of my siblings didn’t have that chance.
Over the next few days we all gathered at home in Perry to prepare for Daddy’s funeral. There was a heavy sadness in the air, but in the spirit of the black Baptist church, there was also hope and happiness as we honored a life and a spirit now in heaven. The night before the service, we all sat around telling stories and reconnecting, then suddenly heard the sounds of a beautiful choir. We stepped onto the back porch and discovered church carolers singing Christmas songs for us. My sister Bonita and I smiled through our tears. “We know this is a tough time for you all and you’re in our prayers,” the choir leader shouted.
What a beautiful moment.
I was with my family, celebrating my dad’s life.
He was at peace. And, somehow, I was too.
Making difficult decisions is a part of all of our daily lives, but it can be a tough skill to master. When it was time to choose a new school for Leila, I tossed and turned at night, agonizing over the decision long after Al had made up his mind and was able to settle into a deep, restful sleep. And I still recall my difficulty in coming to the conclusion that it was time to move my mom into a nursing home. After lots of family discussions, my siblings were all on board and yet I continued to worry over it for weeks.
Some things come quickly to me and from the gut, like moving to ABC to join 20/20. However, when it comes to matters of the heart, I often struggle. But once I make a call, once I put my hand to the plow, I am learning not to second-guess. After all, I want my children to know that we all make difficult choices, and even then you may never know the absolute right answer. That’s why it’s best to accept it no matter what, especially if you cannot change it. In the words of Jon Kabat-Zinn, the father of mindfulness and an advocate for living in the moment, “You cannot change the tide, but you can learn to surf!”
Acknowledgments
As I reflect on the deeply personal moments shared in this book, I cannot do so without a debt of gratitude to the incredible sisterhood in my life. First, to my blood sisters, Annette, Bennie Ruth, Janet, Celestine, Bonita and Belinda . . . thank you for the love, hard times and happiness you shared with me over the years, along with my big brothers, Jackie and Ben.
Where would I be without the women friends who helped shape, nurture and encourage me through so many ups and downs? What would become of me without my book club girls (Marva, Judy, Tawana, Jonelle, Angela, Yolanda, Dale, KC, Pauletta, Gloria and Jerri), who keep it real and sane? Who cares if we don’t always read a stimulating book? Or my lunch club, which makes life so much richer: Robin, Gayle, Theresa and Tonya are like a ray of sunshine.
I am stronger and wiser because of many mentors who brightened my life, like Dorothy Hardy, my unforgettable English teacher, who helped me truly believe in myself. Thanks to my confidante, honorary sister and cheerleader, Agenia Clark, who always gives me reason to smile even during the dark moments of parenting and living; I’m also so grateful for the friendship of Ruhanna Neal, my spiritual mentor. Thanks to the brilliant Laura Morton, who discovered that I had a story to share, and to Mel Berger and Tracy Bernstein, who nurtured it along for so very long. And most of all to my kind, passionate and extraordinary husband, Al, who makes me believe in the beauty and challenge of love!
—D.R.
I want to thank my brother, Chris, and sisters, Alisa, Desireé and Patricia, for being family.
Thanks to someone I talk about all the time, Dr. Louis B. O’Donnell, my professor at SUNY Oswego who was instrumental in setting me on my career.
I want to publicly thank the man who gave me that first job doing television weather, Andy Brigham, the news director at WHEN-TV in Syracuse. He gave me my first invaluable piece of advice. “Roker, remember. No matter how hard you try, you can’t chrome-plate sh*t!”
Thanks to my second dad, Willard Scott. Your generosity and humor are still what help guide me today. And to my buddy Jon Harris, who was a great sounding board for thoughts, ideas and concepts.
Without the writing talents of Laura Morton, we would still be looking at a blank computer screen. To Tracy Bernstein, thanks for the guidance. And to Mel Berger, living proof that there’s no school like old school. You are a gentleman and a lover of the written word who gets it done.
Finally, to Deborah, the woman who has been my rock for the past twenty years, thank you for being the yin to my yang, the balance in my life and the mother to two wonderful kids and a guiding force to Courtney. I am so grateful to have been there and done that with you.
—A.R.
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