May the Work I’ve Done Speak For Me

Dermatillomania. Dermatillomania is the last word that my best friend and I learned together. TK asked, “What is this obsession called?” when I noticed her picking her lip with her freshly painted hot pink nails — a nervous habit she managed to quit after her college days. She admitted that it recently resumed, but who could blame her? She had just finished planning her own funeral.

Getting a call at 1:41 AM was not bizarre if the caller ID said TK or Rita (her mom.) It’s how we rolled, just like researching things we didn’t know or calling each other with a new word to broaden the other’s vocabulary. But this time, it was the one we all anticipated, but selfishly didn’t want to hear. My best friend peacefully departed the Earth on Sunday, October 9.

Her wake was held this past Friday, where I completely obliterated my Superwoman persona when I spoke about my girl with a shaky, hoarse-like voice in between sobbing episodes. It’s a good thing I was already sitting because I probably would have collapsed otherwise. It was difficult seeing her there and trying to condense our colorful friendship sisterhood into a few minutes (which I failed miserably because the minister had to hurry me along.)

Saturday’s home going celebration was just that — a celebration. The church was packed to capacity and TK’s musical selections were fitting and fiery. Rev. Walker’s eulogy was impactful and so were his personal words as he hugged me following the final viewing. The family, my family, gave a great tribute to our sister and Rita watched over her baby just as she has always done. The holy spirit filled that place.

During TK’s last hospital stay, she recorded a video to be played at her funeral. I’m not sure if it was because of technical difficulties or my daughter’s background narrative that prevented the video from airing, but it would be remiss of me to not share her testimony with the world.

My pillar of strength was welcomed home.  I’m sure He said, “Well done.”