Grandma Rozzie
This essay is part II of the “Leaning into Grief & Goodness” series.
Rozzie is prounced Roz-ee
Caption for photo on the Blog page: Grandma Rozzie leaning against a car with her three children, Cyrus Jr., Peggy, and Thaddeus (yep, that’s my dad upstaging).
It is a strange thing to be reintroduced to a woman upon her death—one you’ve known your entire life. The woman who birthed the man who made you.
In the days before her funeral, my mother assembled a photo collage from the plethora of photos that she came across tucked away in books and boxes. I glimpsed the woman who existed before she was my grandmother. She embodied royalty as she posed in scenes that showed her as a regal socialite. Her smile was the same one I’ve known. Her laughter rang out from square prints with white-borders. I saw her. She was a diva in the best of ways. I saw Rozzie Parks, daughter of Robert and Burdia Mae, before she was a wife, before she was a mother, and before she knew the ailments of chronic pain and cancer.
Before our relationships formed, before an “us” existed, who were the people who are dear to us as unique individuals? Who are the people we love–deep down–before they took on the roles of grandparent, godparent, minister, caregiver, or employee?
This is what I grieve. There are questions I would have asked her had I taken the time to see her before. I had decades with my grandmother, more than most do, yet I did not take full advantage of it. I grieve that I did not lean in more with questions of curiosity. What event did you attend wearing the floor length gown in the black and white photo? How did being a young adult during the 1960s shape you? How did getting a divorce change you? If you could have a do-over, what would it be?
I am saddened that I missed out on stories that would unlock the doors to secrets that reveal hidden wisdom and reasons of whys, whats, and how comes. The guarded treasures that some family members know how to find, but only grandmothers know how to appraise its value.
My Grandma Rozzie was full of goodness. Generous with her money, meals, time, and encouraging words brought many to her door and kitchen table. She loved our family fiercely and I will forever hear her telling us this. I looked forward to visits with Grandma Rozzie at her home on Dodson Avenue. Her bright eyes and humble home were spaces of hospitality. When I close my eyes, I can easily see her excitement as she eagerly welcomes guests while fidgeting with the screen door to let them in. I can hear her greeting me with words that roll off her tongue as smooth dough rolls over a pin, “Heey, Sugar Puddin’!”
On Sunday afternoons, Grandma Rozzie and I shared life updates—about the deacon who were sweet on her, Wimbledon matches, and the “Murdaugh Murders”. We shared a fondness for singing hymns and sipping on good tasting teas in the evenings. “The Almighty has been good to us…The Almighty will take care of us,” are statements that Grandma Rozzie would weave together during our conversations as reminders to me and her that God was aware of our grief and goodness. I give thanks for the overflowing goodness that I knew well in the person and life of Grandma Rozzie.
On a chilly morning in December, Grandma's sons and siblings, nieces and nephews, grandchildren and friends, gathered for her homegoing. We wept. We celebrated her life. Truly, to know her was to love her.
If I ask you more questions and lean deeper into curiosity in the days ahead, know that it is part of my journey in grief and goodness. Perhaps it is not so strange after all to know someone in life and to meet them anew after death.
Here is a musical selection from my Uncle Kenneth Parks & Payton M. Simms Inspirational Choir during Grandma’s homegoing celebration. Take time to listen and reflect. (Lyrics by Rev. James Cleveland. I do not own the rights to this music.)
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” -Rainer Maria Rilke
Whose life are you thinking about today? What grief and goodness about your relationship with this person are you leaning into?
Find an old photograph of a loved one. Who do you see? What question might you ask to glimpse a more vivid picture of who they are?
What questions persist within you that you might “live the questions now” with the hope that their answers may arise in time?
