Aye Hawa-Ellen Knuckles, Kabu Yaks, what is this I am posting about? I can’t even bring myself to say the words. I am not ready.
How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh outweigh the bad
I thought we would have more time, but the time has gone away
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
And I’ll take with me the memories to be my sunshine after the rain
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
(Adapted from “Its So Hard To Say Goodbye to Yesterday” by Boyz II Men)
My timeline is flooded with people posting what you meant to them, about how many different ways you touched their lives. It speaks to who you are as a person that you were so cherished by more than just your immediate family. To others you were so many things: successful entrepreneur, mother figure, role model, best friend, favorite cousin, confidant, favorite cook, and the list goes on.
You were all this and so much more to me. You were my number one defender, when Mama was spanking me, pleading with her to stop. You were my first best friend; our joke with EV was that you and I were doing fine and then we had to adjust to this new baby. You were my hype woman, introducing and praising me to all your friends. You were my chef first, though you have cooked for a great multitude of others. You were my shining example, graduating high school at 15 years old and remaining close to the CWA Class of 87 to this day, and going on to get your Bachelor’s and Masters. You were my co-worker, as we ran Daddy’s company from our apartment living room in Brooklyn, New York. You were Executive-Chef-In-Charge at my wedding, making sure my American friends knew to set the potato greens next to the rice. You were my part-time babysitter when both of my children were born. You were my cheerleader when I brought my wife and children to Liberia. Daddy and Mama were Willis and Hawa #1; you and I were Willis and Hawa #2.
It pains me so much to use the word “were”.
Nine years ago I brought my family to Liberia, after living in Brooklyn, NY, USA being away from home for twenty years. I came here to have my wife Marie see Africa for the first time, for my children to connect with their Liberian heritage. I also came here to reconnect with my parents and sisters. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I came to Liberia to bury so many of them. My father, my mother just last year, and now my older sister. Only me and my baby Yaks remain now. If you believe in God, as I do, you have to say it’s all part of His plan.
Its so hard to say goodbye to you, but yet it’s all part of His plan. And though I am not ready, I must say these words. Goodbye, Hawa-Ellen. You can rest now.
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