I suffered all day from a migraine after the dogs went for their walk this morning. Strangely, for the half hour there I couldn't get the "feel" of the garden, even after saying good morning to T, Gary, Donny, Gracie and even Pepe--from a safe distance I might add.
Nevertheless, on the way home, I met Fondie, who died in Memphis, or should I say, "perished" as quoted in her local obit. She was only 47, a former Marine who had seen deployment in Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom then return to became a postal worker. I walked away from her grave three times, and three times I dragged the pups back to look at her plaque, staring at her name, drawn back for some strange reason, wondering why her name was spell so creatively, wondering if she was Black (I'm 1/4th Black as an adopted kid), wondering why I couldn't walk casually by and get home for some breakfast.
Fondie had indeed been a beautiful Black woman, from the picture posted in her obit, (I was compelled to look ay it upon returning home. Of course, nothing in the few paragraphs announcing her local funeral revealed how she died. At first, I wondered if it have been a car accident. Statistics show that 40% of those dying every day do so in an automobile accident while 45% die due to some physical reason, such as a heart-attack, cancer, an infection, or a disease. For a minute I was sure it was an accident. But after reading her obituary a second time, a "gut" instinct said "shooting." (Only 14%--die due to accidents at home--such as falling off a ladder, while a tiny portion of what's left of that 100%, die in a burst of quick violence--usually some woman killed by a husband or boyfriend, which is why the police always bring the guy into their interrogation rooms--because 9 times out of 10, the murdered victim is killed by someone he or she knows. But it's an even smaller percentage which remains a mystery; because they are random, meaningless, brutal, committed by strangers--and for strange reasons.
Who would shoot and kill such a wonderful mom, grandmother, Marine?
I hoped it wasn't an ex-boy friend, or worse, a random violent blast from a gun stuck out a window of a car that swerved in front of a house from which she had finished delivering a few letters and a whole lot of junk mail. One of those moments where a member of some evil affiliation needed to slaughter some person who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, be it a child, a by-stander, or a mail-carrier, in order to "prove" his or her worthiness to belong to this " wicked social club.". That sort of death would have given anyone a horrible headache.
Fondie, could have died from a tumor. Like Arnold said in "Kindergarten Cop" I keep hearing, "It's not a toomah!" Which goes back to a shooting thing, which is making me so angry the pain in my head is starting to dissipate as I write this--something I wasn't going to do because of the migraine: the irony of this situation is not lost on me.
You don't think Fondie was trying to tell me something, do you?--trying to tell me how she died in the only way she could? If so, I would rather not get this kind of communication again. I didn't get anything done--slept for most of the day, and prayed God (while taking more migraine medication) would make this pain would let go of me--perhaps go and visit someone in Memphis instead.
If it was a message from a woman not that much younger than I, whose dark eyes and lovely caramel-colored skin haunted me in my dreams. Fondie, I got the message! But don't fret, my dear. Karma (I'm using that term for the lack of a better one), karma works in strange and wonderful ways--what goes around, comes around. If God doesn't mete out the proper justice in this world, oh, the blood of the innocent are even now crying out from the Earth! His merciful bowels are filled with righteous vengeance which will come in the Great and Terrible Day of Judgment, when all secret deeds-- yours, mine, and theirs will be revealed--where blood will testify with more truth than a witness can in any court in this world.
I'm glad I met you Fondie, but no more migraines, okay?
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