I recently went back to my hometown for our beloved Toni
Chestnut’s memorial. It was a beautiful
celebration of her life. The first person I saw was her mother at the
church. She greeted me with an
enveloping hug filled with comfort and said, “I can’t believe you’re
here”. I started to cry a bit, but she
put a stop to that quickly. “Toni
wouldn’t want us to cry today. No tears.” I did as I was told. This was a directive from one of my favorite
people, so I willingly acquiesced.
The memorial was a touching and beautiful celebration in the
church where I grew up. The sights and
smells were so familiar---the impressive white marble altar, the skyrocketing
stained glass windows, the angelic voices. The music was
beautiful and reminded me of sitting in those same pews a lifetime ago. I cried
when I heard a familiar hymn and the verse, “I love you and you are mine” got me. That song was one of my favorites and really
cemented the reason for the day.
One of the best parts of the day was seeing some familiar
faces from home; dear family friends and people I had gone to church with my entire childhood. Those are the faces you never forget. One of those people has become the church
deacon. After the mass, this gentleman
said to me, “You look so familiar to me.
Do I know you?” I told him my
name and he said, “Wow! You’re all grown up!
How is your wonderful family?” Home.
You can’t replace that feeling that coursed through me
at that moment. Recognition, belonging,
love. It meant so much that he
remembered me.
I have lived in North Carolina for 20 years now. I have not been home in quite some time, so
it was natural that some people didn’t recognize me. Some said, “you had long hair when I last saw
you!” I think they were being nice. It couldn’t be that I have aged in the 20
years that have elapsed. How kind they were
to spare my feelings.
As we made our way to the luncheon after the memorial, I got
a feeling of trepidation; much like when you go to school for the first
time. I wondered who my husband and I
would sit with at the luncheon. I know
that’s a crazy thought and I should have been focused on Toni, but I did wonder
where were we going to belong?
My fears were not realized as I saw some family friends from
the very beginning of the gathering.
They welcomed us with happy, warm smiles, big embraces and pulled up two chairs at their
family’s table. Home.
As we sat and ate lunch, we reminisced, laughed and were
smacking the table in delight. At one
moment, I glanced back and saw a picture of Toni on the television in a
slideshow prepared for the memorial. I
felt guilty for a quick second for having so much fun, but then Toni’s mom came
up behind me and hugged me. I felt the reassurance that Toni would have loved this celebration. It was real and genuine. All of the people she loved from home in one
place, smacking the table and laughing like crazy.
I realized. You can
go home again. And home will welcome you
with open arms, a seat at the table and lots of joy.
