The Last Time I Saw You

Who could have thought?

I griped and groaned as my father rolled me out of bed. He told me I was coming, because I had rarley ever gone. It seemed at that point in my life I wanted to do anything besides what was right. I lazily got ready secretly hoping all the while my Dad would catch onto my silent protest and relieve me of this responsiblity.

We got into the car and spoke on every topic. The buildings passed slower than the minutes. For some reason it seemed that this day was going by slower than any other. The rule of time was not in play, for it felt God knew this might be the last time I saw you.

We came to your house and I did not read the writing on the wall I did not see the foreshadow. It took some time for you to come outside. You were so tired. The man whom brought me along this protested journey sad next to yours was a house with bad people, and whether that was true or false, I knew such peace and grace should not have been in the same thought as such discomfort and dismay.

You swung the door wide open while holding onto the screen, and you waved. You only saw your Nephew Alex. Then you saw me. Your face lit up like never before. I, Trevon James, still to this day have never seen some ones face light up more in my life, and I dont think I ever will. It’s as if I gave you a second wind. We spoke, and you told me loved me. You kept telling me you loved me, and I did not understand why.

Time passed, and I skipped a few more trips back out to the city with the monsterous buildings. I only asked that my father, with what ever he does in his journey, I only asked that he PLEASE bring back beef patties. After a while he stopped bringing them, and after a while he stopped asking me to go. I have never been more sorry in my life for failing to see the writing on the walls.

I played an entire football game, and my parents did not come until right before. You were in the hospital, and while you were at the back of my mind and in the center of my heart that day I could not help but focus all of my energy on this game. I played one of the best of my life. My parents always took slight displeasure in my pop warner games because they always wanted to hear my name over the loud speaker and they didn’t think they would be able to. They showed up in time. I asked my parents,

“Is she okay?”

My father cryptically responded,

“We’ll talk.”

How did I not read between the lines? In alot of ways I’m glad I didn’t I would have broken down forefitted my chance at playing in this game, ran off and held my mother until this negativity departed from my life.

I don’t remember the car ride home. I just remember standing in my parents room when my Dad told me you passed. My mothers eyes welled with tears like I’ve only seen twice before, because she rarley lets me see her cry. I had never seen my father cry until that moment. I often still wonder how he kept together knowing the inevitable was happening to you right before his eyes. I often wondered how any of us keep it together, and then I saw my Dad put all his faith into you. You must not have been worried, becuase although he was sad, he was not shaken, he was not broken, and he was still strong. I hope should I ever find love, have a son or daughter of my own, and be faced with a situation even half as hard as his, that I can weather the storm half as well.

Your face lit up like never before. You smiled, and you ceased using the door handel as a support. You hugged me and you kissed me and you told me that you loved me.

Who could have thought that would be the last time I saw you?



I am writing this at 5:30 in the morning to urge you all to never let inspiration pass you by. This was a post in the loving memory of my Aunt Doris Francis, the most kind gentle woman I knew next to my grandmothers and my mom. She cared about a family she was married into more than any of it’s patrons will ever know, and for some reason I woke up from my sleep, and had to write this.

If you lost some one, I love you. If you’re going to lose some one, I love you.

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