1:10 am.
I will say this for the record- on Beautiful Sadness.
The last time I saw my mother was in the Enugu Airport, and as she waved at me, I saw Beautiful Sadness in her gaze and in the wave of her Wave to me Bye.
-She was with her my youngest aunt Julie, my Grandmother’s 8th child who came to see me off. J.C. and E.C. or Onu-Azuka- and C.E. as me.
My mother, was literally my Little Sister, Harmony, and my Best Friend.
I had the intentions, made such plans for how I would celebrate with her.
Set her, made plans for her own Prince Charming, and a life she so richly deserved, I would have my life, her work, and family, and she would travel from one sibling’s place to another, somewhere in the world.
My mother was not only wildly beautiful- but it was her personality, her wit.. my god- her plays.
Mischievous, daring, Balls beyond belief, and all veiled in a lady-like composure.
I wanted to show her off to the world.
She was and always will be my Beautiful Vanity.
I thought and was determined to see her in a year, then I saw the play- Okay 3 years tops.
1:18 am.
I didn’t understand, it, Why was I not able to be in constant conversation with her, or fly down for a quick visit, and in this day and age.
It got worse, and I realized that all the forces in the universe were keeping us apart- one of which was that frequency of the highest “Play Script” intent that she never become, that which I knew and Nnamdi knew, and my sister suspected- Queen of the World.
It was a play of the Creator Gods- in A Story.
I fought back, and it was a terrible battle, with communication.
1:23 am.
I lived through the bars of her voice, and I could not understand what was happening to her, her beloved family- deaths.
Terrible, and she was so shocked, stunned.
My siblings did not go to see her, she and Boons were alone and it was a terrible family drama.
I was in the story as if caught in a web. a spider’s trap.
The web sticker.
My mother’s voice started to change, I could feel her falling into the spell of the life she would have with me, us, traveling the world, and most of all, living her life as she wished, and what it was transforming into- utter disbelief. A nightmare, abandoned by her son and then daughter and Obum left, and he never saw her again. They kept in touch, he sent her money regularly.
I didn’t understand.
She would tell, when she heard from me after a gap of 5 years- I had told her, called her 1992, 3-4 months before I moved to the Light Fantastic, that I knew I was going away, and it might be a while.
She hadn’t realized, nor I that it would be over 5 years later, and “by chance” and in Istanbul Turkey.
She had told me that I had given her a second lease in Life.
1:33 am.
She made me make a vow in that voice rising out of Beautiful Sadness, a vow, and an oath to stay in touch.
I knew what she was really saying and my heart quickened.
I had been promising her, that my work was done, and I would bring her over here, while a quiet fury for her family extended especially began to bubble.
And a befuddlement of my brothers and sisters’ absence.
My sister did try, but they had always been too close, and my sister, as my brother when hurt, have formidable tempers.
My uncle was a great help when his elder brothers starting dying. this is already on my page apart for some things… relating to my mother, waiting, and my daily anxiety, while I did this work, I was beginning to loathe, as well as my mother, who knew, what was going on.
But could not bring herself to talk about the Higher plays.
I did not see my mother, and I kept my promise, no matter where I was moved to, or the circumstances. I would dread talking to her, her hurt, and bravery- then the crack in the armor, then my watching her transform into the hardened and often cold woman- I loathed, and I would have to find the key phrase to bring her back to herself.
It was swift, but she was my Best Friend, then my little sister and only lastly mother.
Do you want to know what pain is?
She crossed over when I was with Arden Gemino- he let me know she was going to be crossing over.
I felt nothing because I knew she was here, that the last years I suddenly could not reach her by phone- you were all witness, it was on the Wood Side of the Starbucks- with the Siren-Mermaid Logo at 1385 Metropolitain Wood Avenue in 2017, you were all there or can read it.
She still thought I was 21 in surprise, I was in contact with Dean Dunkwu D.D.-But inside, I was in Rm 4B bed 4016 with Dawn Piercy and moved to Rm 5A bed 5-006 a 15 Man room. My Neighbor in Bed 4-017, was David Dawn. D.D 1544 C.Town, Ii saw him Morph into David and through him the sleep-snoring illness- which with my having endured hell in the room 3, a pit opened at my feet to the bottom of the deepest Pit, and there was Tre Shaun. Trey Romeyrome in the R script- Reflected Version, And another guy. This is about the 17 as Q.
She was about 41- yes, 43 when I last saw her.
I had kept the connection, no matter the circumstances, what she was being through, the malicious gossip of her once Golden Boy Son condition as a homeless bum.
Her life became a tragedy, but I would still find with her moments of that lightness and she was back- forever young in her mind and an I, in hers.
All through sound, Lyrical Conversation in which in each other’s sound, unsaid words, the Beautiful Sadness of true tragedy.
My mother left in February early morning, when I first heard the news, via a play of an Email Arden sent me, which caused me to check my E-mail.
It was the early morning of the 27th, just left the 26th of Feb.
But she actually crossed over on the 22nd.
2-22-2020.
I had not seen her, in 32 years.
1:57 a.m.
Because of this playscript.
1:58 a.m.
The Poem I read to David Roman Nicholas, in 2003.
My two-bed fellows, Sadness, and Joy.
J.S.
J.A.S.M.I.N.E.
Jasmine Elliott
I read it to Jon Jason Lee, in 1990.
A Beautiful Tall elegant woman I met in Istanbul, and Vivianne, and Yelena ( Helen) from Yugoslavia she was only 16, but I made her the star in the scene in the story of colors, scene the 3rd Scene- Constantinople 16th century, she rode in carried by 4 gorgeous men, and Pascal-with my vanished treasure Trunk which vanished when the moment came to pick it up, and leave Istanbul- was gone. Pascal who plaid the Flute to serenade the 16-year Ylena -sound, an experimental artist with sounds of everywhere, was gone. I had, had half his face painted like a Maori and Persian warrior- Pan.
2:10 pm.
It is not the heart-break of living and having to play that part of
in such a tragic story, which was really malicious and cruel, but that it had been written, created for both of us to live.
2:12 a.m.
Sum of the Morning and Evening Star.
M.E.S.P.
2:13 a.m
That is a taste of what was done to me, for this… Lie. And the original beautiful truth. What was taken away from me, for you and it was not even of the truth or of Nature’s Expression- 2: 15 a.m. B.O. B- A-E.
2:16 am
B.P.
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