Mama was eclectic when it came to her spirituality. If pressed, I think she may have called herself a Methodist Witch, but it seemed like she was willing to use whatever worked, wherever it came from. So Buddha, Islam, Wicca, Baptist: bring it on. Now, it can be pretty easy to get unteathered with such an approach. What you need is a companion, and Mama’s companion was named Mary. Mary wrote books about women and goddesses and gods, but I don’t think it was her scholarship that Mama valued as much as her companionship.
And when Mary needed a new place to live, Mama wanted to help out. There was a little house down by the Harpeth River that Mary was about to miss out on because her old place had not sold yet. Mama loaned her some money to make it all work and wound up having a bedroom there if she ever needed it. When we were trying to figure out how to help Mama after she went down the first time, we got together out at Mary’s. Somehow we got to talking about what to do if Mama were to pass away – purely hypothetical as far as any of us were concerned. Mama wanted to have a wake at Mary’s house.
No more than six months later, Mama was gone. It’s an understatement to say that I could not believe it. I could not comprehend what I was supposed to believe. Moreover, I could not understand how this plan I had made and how this God I believed in had failed so miserably. I had done everything I was supposed to do, and still she was gone. It’s not understatement to say that I was resentful toward the Big Chief in a way that I did not know if I could ever get over.
What I really wanted to do was scream and cry until my cheeks were soaked and the snot ran out of my nose. I wanted to understand. Most of all I wanted Mama back. The only thing or person or whatever that seemed to have any chance of making the latter two happen in any way, shape, or form was the one person I was least interested in relying on: God. But if Jacob taught us anything, it’s to not run away from the Big Man.
Tackle that Mother instead. My plan was to take Him down and hold him down until he blessed me. I was owed one. To give in, to give up, to break down and wail first would be to lose. So God gave me a blessing. He gave me a song. According to this song, it’s ok to let it go, to let it rain. Take the Buddah, take the Prophet, take the Angels, take whoever and whatever can help you get there. And get down to Mary’s place. We’re going to have a party. And we’ll learn how to live again.