To You Cynthia Faye Fullwood, December 1, 1961-January 28, 1992

Dearest Cynthia,

I celebrate what would have been your 43rd birthday today because I miss you.
You were my second hero, second mother, always doing, being and leading with a smile.
I celebrate your life today because I miss you.
You let me listen to your Commodores, Earth, Wind and Fire, Parliment-Funkadelic, Ohio Players, Zapp, Natalie Cole.
You helped me to appreaciate form and rhythm and allowed me to dance at the our house parties that mom and dad knew nothing about.
You shared secrets with me that I've long forgotten.
You taught me to be brave when I was so scared to be myself.
You left home a teenage girl and returned a soldier.
You gave birth to three beautiful children, Ronald, Rashon, and Chyra.
You attached the wings to my back that still confound me. Who gave me these wings? Who knew that I would fly the farthest? Who knew that i would need speed? Who knew that I would need more than just strength to confront this world?
You did.
I remember being four. You were eight, Kay was six. Darryl was two, and Pam hadn't made it here yet.
I remember fighting with you both who routinely beat my ass until one day I settled the score. I smashed your head with my red stool and popped Kay with my toy gun. Afterward my rebellion, Mom said I locked myself in the bathroom, fearing the inevitable.
I remember you dressing up.
I remember your hair catching on fire.
I remember mom not letting you or Kay perm your hair until you were 14.
I remember going with mom to pick you and Kay up at the teen discos like Nirvana's and Disco Tech.
I remember your friends and your boyfriends.
I remember seeing you dress up to take your senior pictures with your Farrah Fawcett flip, blonde highlights and sunglasses.
I remember your nicknames: Paradise, Latiya Faye
I remember your voice, your insights, your kindness, your visions of a better life. I remember your hunger.
I remember losing touch with you as I left home and tried flying.
I remember your appreciation for Prince and Jill Jones.
I remember that you enjoyed smoking weed.
I remember all of your apartments.
I remember you growing tired.
I remember finding out that you had leukemia.
I remember thinking that this cannot be happening.
I remember the hospital visits.
I remember keeping vigil.
I remember being at the hospital the night you died.
I remember thinking this cannot be happening.
But it did.
It did.
I remember that your death was the first death I ever experienced.
I remember your wake, your funeral.
I remember losing my mind and dropping out of college for a semester.
I remember missing you so much.
I miss you.
I am thinking of you today.
Celebrating your life.
Celebrating your love.
Would have been 43 years old today.
I got the Commodores blasting while I write this. I'm going to rock some EWF and Funkadelic later on.

Thank you for the time you came and spent with me, with us.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004 @ 08:36 AM