loss.

July 2020

I looked back on my last texts with Avis and fell into deep regret. One of the last things she said to me, in early May, was “hit me up when you slow down.”

I never slowed down.

I called my mom. They met once. I am so grateful they met that once. I sat smiling, eating a piece of pie as we three drank tea. They bonded over utilizing a wealth of resources for their health and well-being, including meditation and acupuncture. I am so grateful they met that once.

“Spending time with friends, sharing good stories about Avis is like a group meditation. Sharing the positive energy she shared with us, having it vibrate and grow between us.”

Cosmic vibrations. Avis would have loved that shit. Damn, I miss her so much.

My Amma reminded me that Avis would not want me to live in regret. To not fixate on our last interactions, but the abundance of moments in which we thrived.

I never again want someone’s last words to me to be “hit me up when you slow down.”

I must say, for my sake, that I followed that text from Avis with one saying I love her and that I want to tell her about the Octavia Butler book I was reading, Lillith’s Brood. She sent two texts back: 1) oh you got me excited, I need to read and reread her books! And 2) I love you.

Those were really her last words to me. I need to remember that.