I Saw Love Personified

Death reveals so much about people. Uncle John, Aunt Beulah, Cousin Mary and dem can make you shake your head in dismay as they argue over who did what for whom or who should get what or who didn’t do this or that. Some clenching their fists while others clutching their Bibles. My mom use to say that she wasn’t gonna leave a lot of life insurance money for family to fight over. Many a family has been torn apart at the death of a loved one. I don’t know all that went on behind the scenes but what I saw at my cousin’s funeral was endearing and impacted me deeply.

I saw love personified. My cousin was an only child and adopted. I think he struggled with that more than I knew. When my cousin’s father died, I was afraid that he would feel orphaned and disconnected. That’s the reason I had to get to him. For various reasons, many of the family I knew couldn’t make it to the wake. I’m glad I did. That within itself was Divine favor as we had driven for three hours all over Roxboro and beyond and were about to give up when an angel in the form of a man at a gas station gave us clear directions.

Since that time, as God would have it, his cousins V and T devoted themselves to his care and provided him with a sense of family and connection that he had longed for since his mother’s death and probably even before. What a gift. It was astounding to me the sacrifices they made even in his death.

They say that love is in the details. Symbolic of it was the fact that his cousins bought him a brand new suit to be buried in. “New clothes for his new home,” V said, "down to his underwear." To most folks this sounds ludicrous. Everyone knows that you can’t take anything material to the other side. But again, it wasn’t about reasoning or rationality, it was about care and love.

Even at the graveside, when everyone else left, his cousins stayed the limo driver and told the grave attendants they didn’t want to leave his casket sitting on slats to be buried later. Seeing their resolve, I, my son and my mom stayed as well.  It was like no other burial I had ever witnessed.  The vault was placed over the casket and secured. The grave attendants then chained the vault and it was lifted by a bulldozer while they removed the slats. They then careful navigated the unit into the ground. Once it was lowered, dirt was added and the green grass-looking tarp was put on top.

What was most striking to me was his cousin T. He stood watch with unwavering commitment until every detail was done. He didn’t move. It was cold. He stood there. It was a laborious process. He stood there. He didn’t move from his spot. It reminded me of the military where one soldier salutes a fallen comrade.  Oh my God, how moving it was.  I only hope that when I die, someone will want to make sure that even my remains are handled with such care. V said it was the norm for them to pull the covers up over him when he was unable to do it himself. As they tucked him in securely in life, they tucked him in securely in death. Again, love is in the details.

As I remember the funeral and the emotional ups and downs of the past week, I have asked that I become a better person, a better friend, a better human being. I’ve tried to remember the countless moments of awareness, of evaluation and of a greater understanding of life, people and love. They are glimmers at first but as we move through grief to surrender, those moments become building blocks for the new normal we have to build. A normal where you will carry your loved one in your heart and are inspired to be better for it.

Even for those who don’t believe in God or tend to place their hopes in their own abilities, life has a way of bringing you to a point of reckoning. You’ll either get up more conscious of who you are or you’ll slip further down into despair and allow your pain to drive you further from who you were meant to be. I believe that coming-to-yourself is that spiritual part of you asserting itself.  And even in the darkest of nights or the most harrowing of circumstances, He will reveal Himself as a voice or a flicker of light when it’s time. Some call Him the indomitable human spirit. I call him the Holy Spirit. He counsels and enables and helps you when, in your ability, you simply can’t do it on your own.

I know that death is intimidating for most--myself included. The Bible calls it an enemy. It takes something precious and leaves you with loss. Some folks who are uncomfortable with grief will try to divert you by quoting scriptures or rationalizing the death in some way. I don’t want to be like that. Grief is the byproduct of loving someone.  There is no way to make it better.  All we can do is be with.  There is power in being with.  There is healing in being with.  One person's humanity can touch another's.  When someone sees you, hears you and shows you that you matter, that’s the highest form of validation. And accepting it from whomever, whenever is humility.

It saddens me that our society pushes you to just get over stuff. And we confuse being able to function to being over it but it shows up in other ways. It shows up in us becoming overly critical or touchy. It shows up in broken relationships and broken trusts. It shows up in stomachaches, headaches, muscle aches and other aches. It shows up in workaholism, alcoholism, and other isms. It shows up in the egoic need to control other people, places and things. It shows up in extreme and risqué behaviors. If you peel that banana back it traces back to something undervalued by others or unresolved. Some root of bitterness, disappointment, hurt or pain.

Yes, I know that I must keep living – in fact, I want to keep living – and that’s the key. To live. To not be eaten up by grief. To not be consumed by anger. To not let the pain fester but lead us to something sacred within us. To live is to not abandon the moment be it pleasant or painful. To live in it, trusting that you will live through it. To be as honest and pure as a little child when they are sad. To trust your Wiser Self, that Greater Consciousness, that Divine Awareness whom I call God to watch out for you. To know when you need to cry and when you need to laugh. To know when it’s time to cling and when it’s time to let go. If you stay present, life will expose to you some treasure locked inside that you never ever knew was there. I want to come out of this better and I trust God to make all things beautiful in His time.

Related articles

• Celebrate Life Every Day (3sharedpaths.com)
• Rewind, Restart: The Grief Process and Journey (onewomansgriefofepicproportions.wordpress.com)
• This City Year Life: Finding Meaning in Loss (cityyearsanjose.wordpress.com)

I had a moment today. I was listening to the Super Soul Sunday documentary. It was a rerun about Jonas Elrod. He sees dead people. I couldn’t resist. Actually, he sees auras, ghost, demons, spiritual beings. I know, it sounds unreal but he was walking along and out of nowhere he was able to see things that he couldn’t before. I found it interesting. After all, I know what it’s like to hear something, see something that those around you aren’t seeing or hearing. Happened when I was young and my life has continued to be different than what I was brought up to expect.


There was a point where he said, “I didn’t want this. “ He was on a quest to understand why this was happening to him and what he was suppose to do with it. He went from spiritual guide to spiritual guide—mystics, priests and seekers, many of whom he felt were out there. “I don’t want to be one of them,” he said. Lord knows, I understand him. I was cleaning the bathroom at the time and as I was wiping out the sink, I heard him. Before I knew it, I was saying the same thing. “I don’t want to be one of them.” I said it over and over again and as if a dam burst, I started crying deep heaving sobs. I didn’t want to be divorced. I didn’t want to be a straight wife of a gay husband. I didn’t want any of it. I felt myself going into a cathartic cry and started fumbling with my telephone. I needed to talk to somebody but I didn’t want to be consoled. I wanted someone who would help me to face this and stay present in it. I didn’t want to swallow this back down. My wise self knew that I needed to deal with it.

Thank God for Natalie. She didn’t answer immediately but called me back. I explained to her how I’ve been struggling. The light of my purpose getting more intense yet still working the same job. You almost feel like you’re coming unglued. That’s what makes transitions hard. Where you’re going is having a tug of war with where you are. Doesn’t feel good at all.

As she helped me gain perspective, not only was it evident I was grieving but there was some shame there too. I felt guilt and I felt shame. I felt like I had failed myself and failed my son. I felt like damaged goods that people would either pity or think I was stupid. “How could you not know he was gay,” straight wives are often asked. I think the guilt is because he told me he had lived a gay lifestyle. In my naivete, I believed him when he said that God delivered him. After all, God can do anything. I believe that. But to marry him twice? All I can say is I was ignorant. I had never caught him in the act. I told Natalie that I just wanted to be normal.

Her response was absolutely what I needed. “Normal!” she said with surprise. “Who wants to be normal? I pride myself on being unique. Who wants to be ordinary. Please, anything normal.” As I listened, I began to laugh. I heard it. I heard it for what it was. Why would I want to be normal, average, run of the mill? Why? What I considered as shameful was something to be celebrated. As she reframed what I shared and how admirable it was, I felt proud. I had overcome something that many women haven’t. My heart echoed what Natalie said. “You worked through it. You did. You aren’t the one responsible for what happened to you. You believed your husband. You trusted what he said as truth and you loved him. He was the one who was dishonest. He’s the one. You aren’t responsible for that.” Like a warm blanket placed gently around my nakedness, I felt deeply cared for. The grief that I was feeling was simply that—grief.

I didn’t expect to grieve. And I might many more times. I wasn’t rejecting the journey, I was rejecting the label. What I’ve been through doesn’t define me. I don’t have to wear a label. I am Suzette. I am alive today because I fought to live. I took advantage of every resource God made available so that I could live. I am not broken, marred or disfigured; I am resilient and strong.

I made it! And if there is anybody out there who I can help, then I want to do that. As I shared with Nat, what I’ve been through has given me such compassion for those who struggle. The outcasts, the rejects of society because their look, their ways, their authentic selves doesn’t fit the status quo. People who have dared to come out of their closets or have kicked down the constructs placed on them by people who have no idea of their plight. My heart is full of compassion for the men and women courageous enough to come out to their families and the world. If anyone thinks that is easy, they need to guess again. To face almost certain distancing, criticism, hostility and judgment is not something people would pick for themselves. The Carson Kressley’s, Ellen Degeneres and Chaz Bono’s out there who just want to be loved and accepted. Like me and others, they didn’t ask for the cards they were dealt. They are playing them the only way they know just as others are. They’ve just chosen a different way. They didn’t ask for this. I certainly didn’t ask to be an Adult Child of an Alcoholic. I didn’t ask to be divorced. I didn’t ask to be sheltered by my parents and not prepared for certain personalities we’d meet. I didn’t ask to be a Straight Wife. But it asked for me. So when things ask for you, you have to do what you have to. And I believe that if you’ve prayed, cried, agonized, sought and you remain in your state, there is sufficient grace for you. Now, I know that my Christian or Pentecostal friends don’t and won’t agree. But that’s my truth and I’m sticking to it.

Nobody. Not gays, not straights. Nobody should have to carry around guilt or shame over something they can’t help. What kind of life is that? That’s why some of them have to leave family and friends and create a new normal. Who wants to be with people who want you to act less than what you are just because they are uncomfortable with your choice. That’s no life. And I’ve found that society just wants you to comply. They couldn’t care less whether it’s from your heart or not. They want you to do and be the way they want so they, themselves, will feel better. It’s not about you, it’s about them. Only God cares about your heart, it seems. He looks at the heart. I believe that we all have to find our own North Star. My path is not yours and yours isn’t mine. But we are all God’s children. I may not agree with you, but I will respect your right to your choice. God gave it to everyone and he hasn’t renigged on it. I often say. I don’t fault my ex-husband for being gay. I only fault him for involving me.

For baiting and switching. For promising to love, honor and cherish and to keep himself only for me yet withholding himself from me. I was reading the 50 things that gay husbands say to their straight wives to avoid intimacy that my friend, Bonnie Kaye posted on her blog. As I read them, I remembered how awful it was. You stink, when you ask for sex you sound like a whore, you are a nympho were some of the reasons he gave me. He even told me that I needed to ask God to help me because I shouldn’t give anyone that kind of power as I begged him to touch me and laid crumpled on the bed crying my eyes out. He just sat there smugly and matter of factly telling me what was wrong with me. So cold. So distant. No care. No compassion. No regard. In my vulnerability, he made me responsible. He blamed me. He made me the reason why he couldn’t love me.

The things I dealt with emotionally in silence could have driven me to drink, to do drugs, to have an extramarital affair, to lose my faith and to lose my mind. I use to have many panic attacks and often felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown. There was a period where I did lose faith. I didn’t want to hear any scriptures. I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t want to do anything that reminded me of that period in my life. I didn’t want to talk to the same people. But during that time of isolation, God helped me. He preserved me. Even when I fell headlong into a sexual impropriety, God took care of me and wouldn’t allow the man to hurt me. Despite his reputation, he took care of my wounded heart. God was with me and never ever left me. He left me breadcrumbs to follow through all the mirk and mire and ups and downs and twists and turns so I could find my way back home. And no, I’m not the same person. I no longer fit in certain places. How could I after that? It’s nobody’s fault. It just is.

My way out brought me to a different place. A different consciousness. I can’t act like I don’t know. I can’t go back to complying and feeling guilty for not wanting to. I belong outside of the box. I didn’t choose it, it chose me.

It is human to want to belong. And I’m so glad that everybody on this planet has someone that understands them. They don’t have to be isolated or feel like nobody understands. If they live long enough, they will always find somebody who understands them. Who gets them. Who appreciates their journey and where it has taken them.

I was reading on Twitter where folks were criticizing the life coaching community. At first, I was going to defend it, but then I decided not to. Truth is, every single person on this planet has been coached in some way, shape or form. Oprah admits that the reason she didn’t have to go to therapy was because of her BFF Gayle King. Athletes have coaches. Children has coaches whom we fondly call parents. We have all been a coach to someone or been coached by someone. Coaches are encouragers. Coaches are mirrors. Coaches are teachers. Coaches are illuminators. Coaches keep us accountable. Coaches give perspective. Coaches are objective. Coaches don’t lie to us or tell us what we want to hear. Coaches don’t counsel. Coaches walk alongside you. Coaches affirm you. They let you bounce things off of them. They offer insights. And yes sometimes they let you know when you’re coping out, not reaching your full potential. Coaches don’t coddle you or protect you from you. They are straightforward and real. Coaches are expressive. They show emotion. They touch you. They don’t just sit and peer at you from behind reading glasses with an otherwise blank stare. Coaches honor what you want for your own life and say, okay, I’m with you. Coaches are good friends. Coaches are good listeners. Coaches are cool. That’s why I am a coach. And yes, we’re worth our weight in GOLD. That’s why I don’t have any trouble paying my coach. Her help is priceless and I hope that someone will feel that way about me one day.