Tomorrow, I am speaking and singing at the funeral of the mother of my ex-boss. Funny how life is. She got C-Diff and battled long and hard before dying. My mother go the ferocious bacterial infection and lived. Willie Mae loved by all because she was a warrior, a comforter, and a shining example of living fearlessly. I mean, seriously, the postal folk in her neighborhood all loved walking her route because it meant a stop at her home. She didn't even blame me for my hurt and anger when her own daughter did not fight for me when I lost my job there. I cannot think of anyone who could say the same about my mother.


Below are my words for tomorrow and the program I designed for the service...

I only met Willie Mae a few times, but she certainly left a lasting impression. Mostly because she was a writer and I enjoyed the fellowship that comes so easily from someone who understands your heart in an instant.

I have five letters from Willie Mae, tucked away in an antique metal tin. Each one a response to a visit or a missive of my own. She wrote of her plants, telling me they were her best friends, often better than people. I can understand that. I have a collection of moss gardens that I tend despite the strange looks I get from visitors, and one of my bonsais, over 50 years old, has been with me longer than anyone else in my life outside of my family.

She wrote about my poetry and hers. Most of those I have penned are about the dark side of life, the struggles and turmoil that women can face. Consequently, when I tried to share the work that means so much to me, I am most often rebuffed. “Too depressing” is what I hear. AIDS. Poverty. Illiteracy. Rape. Depression. “We don’t want to have to think about those.” Willie Mae didn’t mind. She appreciated them for what they are.


“You are growing roses,” she wrote. “Don’t forget to stop and smell them sometimes, even knowing you may get pricked by their thorns. Remember, life is a journey with many stations to stop and visit. You really don’t want to miss any of them, no matter where they may be or what they may look like.”


In another letter she wrote, “I have been writing poetry for years. Some day, I am going to have them all published, so you and others can read them again and again.” She understood my poetry because she was a poet herself, writing through the good times and the bad. She kept telling me that we should not be afraid to embrace the life we have.


She also told me to smile.


Peppered through her letters, often several times in the same paragraph, she would write the one word command. Smile. Smile because it is what you can do. Smile because it what you should do. Smile because this is your life and you should savor the ways in which you have been blessed. You might not understand them, but you have, without a single, solitary doubt, been blessed.


I would like to sing a song that means a lot to me. I am neither a good singer or a bad, but songs oft have messages that linger in the heart as do poem. This one has the message Willie Mae tried to drill into to me, encouraging me, admonishing me, accepting me for who I am.

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though its breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You’ll see the sun come shining through for you



Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That’s the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what’s the use of crying?
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile