Promises

The day my grandfather passed, I was lucky enough to have four hours alone with him in the hospital. My mind didn’t know this would be my last opportunity to talk to him, but I believe that my spirit did. I spent every minute of those four hours present: looking him in the face, holding his hand, singing to him, and reassuring him that we would be alright - that he made us the type of family that would be alright. I told him about all the things that I was working on, how excited I was about what I thought I could accomplish, and how I knew there was more for me to discover. 

And then I made a promise. I will always remember that moment - how it felt like the world went still, listening; stopping to witness my oath. How the silence settled and made a platform for my voice, amplifying it so that it rang in the room as I squeezed his hand and said, “I will do it all, Granddad. Every. Single. Thing.” 

It’s a promise I’ve made before - to myself - in moments of confidence when it felt like everything in my life was falling into place. I’d tell myself, “This is just the beginning!”, that I was becoming the woman that I dreamed I’d be, and that the universe was supportive of my ambition. Sometimes I stuck to it and sometimes uncertainty stalled me. My latest self-doubt challenge hasn’t been a debate on whether my dreams are valuable or not - I believe they are - but on the scale of value, whether they rank high enough to be worth the effort. Over the years, my motivation has been an ebb and flow as I prioritized financial security and let myself be lulled into complacency with partial fulfillments. 

But death, especially as an adult, brings a different quality of awareness of life; of legacy and purpose.

A while back, I saw a meme that said, “Do it because your children deserve a mother they can brag about.” At first I was embarrassed by how motivated that statement made me (a woman with no kids), above and beyond being motivated for the sake of myself. But as I was writing my grandfather's obituary, studying his life, I decided it’s natural - powerful - to be motivated by legacy; both of what came before you and what will come after. I think about my cousin, Iman, who often credits her grandmother - whose gift for sewing she inherited - as the inspiration for her successful womenswear line, and credits her son for her relentless drive. She was born an evolution because of the generational gifts she received from her grandmother, and she evolved again when her son was born. 

Sister, YOU were born an evolution. You are not at the beginning of things, you never were. Your birth was the intention of your ancestors, the culmination of their essence poured into you. You were not born alone or in lack. You were born along a generational timeline with the talents and vision passed down through your bloodline. You are both ancient and new. 

When I made my grandfather that promise about my life I was also pledging to embody the promise that I represent. I am the child of triumph. I stand here today because my lineage survived generation after generation, where others did not. You stand here today because your lineage fought for survival and won. Your life is a privilege and a wonder. As is mine. My grandfather knew it - he approached life with gratitude and unapologetic exuberance. He showed up for life, embraced every moment, and wasted nothing. 

With his passing it feels like I’ve absorbed the momentum of his legacy in a deeper way. To make him that promise - my grandfather who did so much with his own life, and created the foundation for me to be who I am - to make him that promise before he passed makes it sacred. There is no longer any room for excuses; only the path forward and the steps I’ll take on my journey. It is no longer a secret aspiration of mine to do these things; no longer a choice. I’ve made a covenant with my grandfather - with his spirit - in a way that keeps him beside me; cheering me on, pushing me, and urging  me to live without restraints. 

It’s easy for me to connect to the legacy of my grandfather: a man that I knew personally for three decades. What I’ve remembered is how that connection extends far beyond him, to over 7000 generations in human history where my ancestors managed to pass on the flame of life to reach me. I imagine the women as they gave birth to my lineage: the tension on their faces, the mentality that sharped or dulled the eyes, the personality infused in the skin, and the sweat pouring as they strained to create a miracle. I imagine that no matter the environment or the circumstance, this living babe was always met with relief, hope, and the command to go forth. 

We are more than ourselves; we are the promise of our ancestors - the fruit of those that came before us. We are the harvest that grew from carefully tilled fields, from seeds planted with a prayer that something bountiful enough to sustain life would grow. We are the whispered promise of a better future that straightened our ancestors’ spine, kept their willpower intact, and pinned steady eyes on the horizon. 

My grandfather used to say, “You are no better than anybody else, but you are different.” 

You have never been - nor will you ever be - average. It’s impossible. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and see beyond your own face. Take in each individual feature and know that it came from somewhere - from someone. Someone who, whatever their triumphs, whatever their failures in life, survived long enough to pass life to you. There is a long history in your face, both known and unknown, and you should be proud to stand before your own reflection. Lift your chin. You are here. You breathe. Your eyes are open and your mind is awake. Feel the power in that. Feel the joy in that. You are the child that was promised. You are the dream of your ancestors, and don’t you ever let anyone tell you differently. 

Hold yourself accountable. Think twice about accepting mediocrity. Consider that you were born with an edge, with natural gifts unique to you. Gifts that tip that value scale right over. And also consider that if you continue the legacy, what kind of woman you want your children to observe. When the gates of rest begin to beckon and your granddaughter clasps her hand in yours, how confident do you want to feel in the example you set?

I made a promise, and perhaps the room quieted because my grandfather's spirit wasn’t the only one filling that room. Bearing witness as I gave this last assurance. A promise from me that I was going to do it: live a bold life. And I will. You don’t have to worry about me. With this life - with this gift of life, which I know is shorter than I think it is right now - I’m going to do everything. 

I promise you that. 

Feel free to check out Iman’s clothing line at www.byimanakilah.com, inspired by her fashion icon Lucinda Joyce Crawford Belin. (R.I.P.)

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