like a dream to me now, faded in its imprint but real nonetheless
...She was darker than you and me but despised her own blackness. She would have loved your humor and you would have won her over with your big grins, hearty laughter, and irreverent jokes. She was queen of irreverent jokes and liked to carry a cutlass. She was a warrior. She shook people down for money owed her. She ripped at things like thongs (*uck me quick panties), people who said things she didn’t think made sense (what are you, shtupid?!), and sniffed out lies around every corner. She was straightforward, no nonsense, and cared about our wellbeing. After she died I mused about how well I knew her. What had our connection meant. What did I learn from her. That’s when I started to dream about her and when she started to come to me about the then-current man in my life. She came to me I believe, to teach me, to build me up, to strengthen my belief in myself and the role I could have in this world. She had a man (my step-grandfather) who though married, built her houses, dwellings for her and for her family to live in and to have a future with financial resources and security. He was moved to care for her in tangible ways even when he was primarily responsible for others. This was a strong example to me of a relationship that superseded the seemingly impossible circumstances to survive and thrive. She supported him until his death and she was supported well past hers and their legacy has now benefited the second and third generations of her family. I don’t know yet what legacy really means to me but I’m finding my own definition...
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