The Unlocking of Memories: Dedication to those we loss

I was channel surfing one day. And I remembered a very fond memory. A pleasant memory was refreshed in my mind. A stop-motion/claymation show came on. Then I said wow, I remember making show box collages with my mom . We were so creative. Due to my mom's vast shoe collection, we had more than enough shoe boxes to do our projects with.

We would take a shoe box, and cut it open, using just the backs. We would get modeling clay, the cheaper brand rose art or the local 99 cent store one. Clay was my life. lol. It's such a great way of expressing yourself, so artistic. So what we'd do was make people and animals using this clay as our compound.

I'd be there rolling up the clay into a ball for the head, little black lines for spikey hair or small circles for afro resembling curls textures. We'd flatten out the clay ball and stretch it out and cute it for the clothes. Or sometimes we'd use construction paper or even toilet tissue and paper towel rolls for clothing. It was amazing. Bringing inanimate objects to life.

Now that I think about it, my whole family is very artistic. Were composed of artists, musicians, writers, dancers, the works. My dear, sweet late maternal grandfather would spend hours on end, perfecting his model airplane collections. He had a huge collection. Some mounted on his wall, some displayed proudly on his bookcase.

This man, now he was talented.  A former Navy Seal he had quite the eye for detail, finger dexterity and a passion for his craft. He also had a keen knowledge of technology and computers, very tech-savvy despite his old age.

He had such patience, such skill. All things necessary to practice what he did. The paint brushes for his planes were so fine, so small, maybe the size and weight of a fingernail.

Grandpa never treated me like i was just a mere child. He never placed limitations, constantly challenging me. We played chess, checkers, mancala, card games designed for adults etc. We watched documentaries on the civil rights movement. The History channel being his absolute favorite. We spoke about the paranormal, life after death, religion etc.

My grandfather was an intelligent and very wise man. I could always turn to him whenever I needed advice or encouragement. His calm, steady tone and collectiveness even while under pressure or in times of intensity both intrigued and fascinated me. Grandpa took me to lectures, ceremonies, and our own little journeys. Prospect park was my absolute favorite destination he would travel to.

Prospect Park had many hidden maze like areas. underpasses, things made of brick. So many sights to take in. But my favorite was the pond area. That was where we would feed the ducks bread. Watching them float and swim serenely, calmly. It was so tranquil, so beautiful. Then we would join them. There were paddle boats we could board. As we swayed across the water i reflected on my life. living in the moment for once, free of panic and fear. For I was with my beloved Grandpa.



It's times like those that I wish to hold onto and never let go of. It's time like those I wish I could reel back in and experience again.

Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, meerily, meerily, meerily life is but a dream. Well, at least that what I would sing as a child, can't remember the exact ending.

My Grandpa always taught me to go above and beyond what people expected of me, as a child. He told me that as a child my abilities would be limited and underestimated by adults around me. He taught me to maintain my individuality, and to write the rules to my own story.

He taught me the importance of independence and self-love. We read chapter books, college books, textbooks, encyclopedias. With him there were no age based limits. Which is what I loved about Grandpa.

Grandpa was so very resourceful. He's the one who got me interested in survival kits. He gave me various knives (Not good for a child lol) that had a bottle opener, corkscrew, screwdriver and other things inside in case I would ever get stranded.

He taught me how to cook from scratch, not ready-made. Potato wedges were made by leaving skin on and cutting up potatoes and frying them. "Wait until the oil gets hot", he would stress. He fueled my love of ceasar salads. We'd take turns cutting the iceberg lettuce and croutons.

I remember the way he's soak his dishes in water before washing them. (My mom absolutely hated that lol) you'd see the debris floating grossly lol.

"I wish I could reach out and touch you again.

I miss you, it's been a painful ten years without you Grandpa, I need your advice, your embrace."

Grandpa was my original thunder buddy. When there would be a storm, mainly in the Summer. When the house was dark, during these times we'd leave the lights off and let the lightning light up the house for that spooky effect.

We'd use this time to tell scary stories.

I wish you were here, I miss you tremendously. Grandpa you were my best friend, my father I never had, my mentor, teacher, brother. You mean the world to me.

You know, growing up i used to think that my age was grown, a full adult. Until I actually reached the age. 23 still has a lot of growing up to do. I may be matured physically but I need more life experiences. As I reach these ages I realize I have a lot more to do. A lot more maturing mentally, spiritually. My age to those in their forties must be equivalent to being a "teen adult" lol. the teenagers of adults. Cause were so brand new to this. You know, they say your brain isn't even fully formed until age 25.

Now for Grandma, my paternal Grandmother

My Grandmother's worse fear was me becoming "forceripe". A term used predominantly in the Caribbean to describe a fruit being forced to ripen. if you were to eat this fruit anyway ignoring the fact that it wasn't ready. You be in for a pleasant surprise when you bite into it, as it would be tough and bland. It could've been seemingly edible, but you knew deep down it wasn't. Well forceripe is a girl that's beyond her years prematurely, she's "fast". Dabbling into adult matters, may be sexually active, or dressing provocatively etc. She's being "eaten" before her full development. She wants to force people into thinking she's "ripe" when she is not. 

It was for those reasons above that she never let me wear any nailpolish except for clear. If I were to wear red polish I would be forced to quickly take it off with acetone then I'd be lectured.

Grandma too would take me to Prospect Park visits to feed ducks and eat. She had arts and craft projects for me to do as well. She'd have me go out and pick up the most crispy, fresh leaves fallen from the trees. The Autumn before the leaves withered away and got ugly.

It was the preferable time in the season where the leaves were still beautiful hues, bright red, oranges, yellows, mixtures. All vibrant, beautiful, straight, genuine, natural beauty. How magnifique! 

So I'd get colored pencils, freshly sharpened along with paper. And I'd place the leaf underneath the paper and color over the paper. This would cause a stencil like affect. The leave now in it's color pencil, traced form was now on the paper. 

She always encouraged my creativity. having me take up the piano and violin. She bought me many 100 piece art sets, easels, paint, brushes, sketch and trace pads, etc.

"I inhale, Ahhhh, exhale, & with each breath I take, i'm closer to you. Through memories, you're living. Through memories it's a new beginning. Forgetting enemies, no sinning. For it's you that I aim to please, I will always believe. your love will reign supreme." signing out -AGC