On the plane on the way here, I was reading a book and the
author wrote, “We know we must decide whether to stay small, quiet and
uncomplicated, or allow ourselves to grow as big, loud and complex as we were
made to be.” That sentence really struck me and seemed so fitting since I was
flying here to mourn the loss and celebrate the life of my godmother, a woman
who definitely was made to be all of those things.
Carolina, or Tot as we all called her, started living big, loud
and complex from an early age. I used to love sitting at the house in Tulip
Hill listening to the stories about her childhood and teenage years. Tot and my
mom would laugh and laugh reliving memories of her antics, and Abiba would just
smile and silently shake her head. Tot was a free spirit and she was full of
life – big, loud and complex life. Maybe it was because she was the baby of the
family, but everyone embraced her for it.
And how could you not? This big, loud and complex life is
what drew people to her. It was definitely part of her charm. Once, when she
was visiting us in Jersey, I cried and cried when it was time for her to leave.
I didn’t want her to go. So before she left, we did a photo shoot of the two of
us making funny faces, but most of the pictures ended up just being me hugging
her. I just did not want to let her go. Even at such a young age, I knew that life
was just more fun when she was around – big, loud and complex fun.
And as I got older, that didn’t change. When I was a senior
in high school, my friends and I chose to spend spring break on Covington Road.
While our peers were off laying on a beach somewhere, we chose to spend our
days exploring DC and our nights hanging out with my aunt. She fed us flank
steak and let us drink Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill. She turned on the hot tub
and told us stories that made us laugh until we cried. She let us thumb through
her CD and record collections, and cranked up the volume so we could sing along.
Anyone who knew my aunt knew how important music was to her. In fact, the other
day, my cousins, brother and I found a file folder in her office marked
“Personal Papers.” Inside were hundreds of printouts of song lyrics from Usher
to Seal to Ludacris. We laughed and cried picturing her sitting and reading
these lyrics to herself until she knew the verses by heart. The soundtrack to
her big, loud and complex life.
But I couldn’t stand up here today and honor the memory of
my aunt without talking about laughter. Above all else, my aunt loved to laugh.
She was wickedly funny and playfully mischievous. Truly a prankster at heart. So
many of you have referenced her beautiful smile. But what I love most about
that smile is that it was usually the beginning to her great laugh. It was a big,
loud and complex laugh. What I wouldn’t do to hear that laugh right now.
I was her cheeselet. I was her goddaughter. And being loved
by her was one of my life’s biggest blessings. I have no doubt that my aunt is
at peace now. I imagine that she and my mom haven’t left each others’ sides,
just like old times. And while that image brings some comfort to my grieving
heart, it doesn’t change how much she will be missed by all of us. So, in honor
of my aunt, I want to ask that each of us remind ourselves every day that we
were each made to be big, loud and complex in this life. Today, in honor of
Tot, I hope we all laugh bigger, crank the music louder and embrace life with
all of its complexities. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
