August 28

It was a bright, sunny, warm day. Not cold, rainy and dismal as one might imagine, and even expect, when first hearing the news of your mother's death. The most feared day. I was immediately amazed at God's promised presence "I will never leave you, nor forsake you". I still remember the friends who seemingly instantaneously responded with palpable help and prayers. I also remember the grace and emotional generosity that came from unexpected sources. To this day, Terri's words of assurance still comfort me. My sisters were remarkable. I was, and still am, very proud of how Tracy, Guana, Sharron and Justice presented the best of their mother's essence within each of them during that time.

I am the age at which my mother passed away seventeen years ago. As I have said to a few friends, I marvel at how young she was. You think of your mother as old as soon as you understand that life is counted in years. Of course, once the years advance upon you, you get a better understanding of time. It makes me sad sometimes to think of how short, and full of trouble her life had been. Don't misunderstand, she was not a pitiful woman. Quite the contrary, Marion Stamps lived her life out loud. Yet, like so many of her time and ilk, she definitely struggled ("Aluta continua"). 

Still, my memory of her is rich with her strength in raising her five daughters while living out her passion for Black people. My mother always gave me courage; she would be surprised that she still does.