My Boy Tone just lost his mother and my boy Smoove just lost his father. I couldn’t make Tone’s mom’s funeral, since it was in Oakland, but I checked on him as well as gave him his space. But I was able to make my boy Smoove’s father’s funeral.Just looking at him comfort his mother and his children and his sisters made me understand why he was my boy. He was real and compassionate and creative. I feel that I would have seen and felt the same way if I was at Tone’s mom’s funeral.
I also started to wonder, as I listened to the service, what would my funeral be like? Would they say that I was a good person, that I was kind and giving? Would they honor that I was a hard working man, with a great work ethic, whom worked and provided for his family days up until my death? Would they say that my daughter had my eyes or that my son would have my smile and that thy both had the essence of my spirit? Would they recant that I lived a good life, that I loved living, loved life and loved others as I did myself, even my enemies?
What would they say, for I am not afraid to die, nor am I afraid to Live.
