HARDAWAY | trilogy

V3 - Chapter Twenty One.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

And there will be no tears for you

Gonna be no more crying now

Gonna be no more tears for you

See my eyes have run dry

Soulful, deep, and powerful vocals of Anita Baker greeted my ears every morning when I spent weekends with my Grandmother along the sweet smell of her made-from-scratch chocolate chip and pecan pancakes. "No More Tears" from the Songstress was her favorite. I lost count at how many times she would replay that one song on the vinyl record player. She played the record so much, scratches built on their own. Word for word, she'd vocalize with the singer and stirring pancake batter in the large bowl.

I would complain how many times the record would be played everyday. I remember the first vinyl record she had Courtnee and me purposely tweaked with the back of the record so she couldn't play it anymore. And to our surprise, the next morning, that same song was playing without a scratch. Courtnee and me were shocked, wondering how.

Come to find out she watched Courtnee and me scratch the record and purchased herself a brand-new one that day. As punishment, she made us learn every word while learning what it took to make food from scratch. If one of us, or both, got even one word wrong, she started it all the way over. It was our punishment. I hated it.

But now. . I wish I never took those moments for granted.

And there's no more tears

And no more saddened eyes

From crying through the night

. . (. . .)

Funerals.

I hate them and every since my mother passed, I promised myself I would never attend another funeral, but here I am, attending yet another funeral for my loved one.

All day I have been keeping myself together; not shedding one tear throughout the ceremony and the burial site. My Grandmother was the last of her siblings living; of the ones we knew about. Courtnee, me, and Giovanni was really all she had through her sixty-one years of living. Aside from her Bingo friends, who showed up. It took me slightly by surprise that the whole Lyrewood neighborhood attended, but not too much since Memaw was always lending a hand to anyone.

Shawn brought Carmen, who I spotted during the ceremony with Boogie settled on her lap. She wore herself a nice black blouse tucked in slacks with creme colored pointed-toe flats. She had chopped and dyed her hair from her previous black wavy hair that fell passed her shoulders. We locked eyes once or twice, but never spoke.

Rico was glued by my side the whole ceremony and burial site, dripped down in all black from turtleneck long-sleeve hugged to his muscular build and tucked in his Giorgio Armani wool suit pants and sovereign velvet slippers. Diamond Gold Cuban-link chain around his neck and a Gold watch on his left wrist.

Susana Whitfield, a young woman with beautiful, angelic vocals, sang her own version of Shekinah Glory's Yes along with South Lyrewood Christian Church choir backing her up with background vocals at the burial site.