A-HA MOMENT #2
(OR WHAT’S YOUR IMPRESSION?)

So it is 3 a.m. on New Year’s Eve. What in the hell am I doing up? One of my bad habits, I suppose. Fell asleep on the couch around 11 and now I cannot get back to sleep. Also had a bad case of writer’s block for the past two days; but now I’ve, “got something to talk about,” so I’m up.

About 6 hours ago, I got two pieces of sad news. First, a fellow college alum lost his Dad; it was the end of a second battle with cancer. Ironically, his father passed away at the very moment I was at the cemetery visiting my Father. I went by to check on Dad’s shiny new headstone which reads: loving grandfather, father & husband. There is a little bus chiseled in at the top emphasizing his love of travel and that he had his own bus company for 16 years.

Right before I heard of my friend’s father’s passing—perhaps 30 minutes, I was scanning Yahoo! and noticed a story with the headline, “Sad news for ex-player” (Or Heartbreaking News for ex-NFL Player). At first I start to pass the story up. To me, every other story about an athlete or former athlete is some over the top outrageous incident that usually (but not always) started with voluntary reckless behavior.

This story, however, was different. I say again—this story was different.

You see, former Atlanta Falcon Chris Draft loved (La)Keasha Rutledge; and she, he. So on November 27, 2011, they married. She died of breast cancer one month later. At her wedding, she was on oxygen and frequently needed a wheel chair. This was indeed a remarkable couple—extraordinary together and as individuals.

Chris has a charity, Team Draft, dedicated to encouraging families to build a healthy lifestyle. And in 2002, homeboy pulled a man from a burning car on a busy interstate in Atlanta. Mrs. Draft was a native of South Carolina, had an Engineering degree from Clemson, and was a member of the Charlotte Hornet’s dance team. She had the courage to press on with her wedding despite being gravely ill; that speaks volumes right there. Most women, wanting everything to be perfect on their wedding day, might not have done the same. I can’t say that I could be bold enough to do the same thing, even for true love. Moreover, the thing I read repeatedly was how beautiful Keasha was inside as well as outside and that her smile was infectious.

Then I went back to what my friend Malcolm said about his Dad on Facebook:

"…I know he left the world knowing that I loved him. I know he had a wonderful life. It’s just so hard to say goodbye to a man who molded me into the father, husband and fraternity brother that I became. Most of all he made me a good man."

After watching Chris and Keasha’s beautiful, yet waterworks producing wedding video for the fourth time, I got to thinking about my Dad’s headstone. A cousin who saw it asked why and how my siblings chose the words that we did. My response was simply, “Because that is who he was.”

I have advised my children to cremate me and spread my ashes by the Brooklyn Bridge. Still, I wonder if I had had a headstone, what it would say. Up until tonight, I honestly, did not give two snots; my only worry about my obituary is that my name is spelled correctly. Say anything you want— just don’t misspell my name.

Now, I am not suddenly concerned with what people think about me after I am gone. I just wonder if the real me ever comes across. Like the fact that I love to write, but often I simply cannot transform my thoughts into words. Or that I can operate almost any vehicle up to a tractor trailer, yet I dislike driving. Additionally, that I don’t condone road rage, but in the words of Chris Rock, "I understand…" And while I may be tough on the outside (most of the times anyway) and love to laugh a lot, I cry like a baby during the last Vietnam scene in Forrest Gump and at the end of Dead Presidents.

Again, I thought about Dad’s headstone. I know that when people think of Dad they say, “Yeah, the dude who had the buses; standup guy and man, he loved them grandkids!” My goal? To be remembered as the chick who, “passed away with a pen in one hand (working on the next screenplay) and the strongest alcoholic beverage on Earth in the other.” Well, maybe I’ll tweak that a little.

What impression will you leave…?


Dedicated to Keasha Draft and the Father of Malcolm Aaron.

Ashay.