Coffee
(11/30/2022)
I had my first cup of coffee with you at 5AM at the Starbucks in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. You, me, and my cousin Kiara were headed to Cusco, Peru to do a service learning trip. My first (real) time out of the country and I was way too exhausted to keep my eyes open to see where I was going. You suggested we get some coffee, your favorite. You drank so much coffee on a regular basis that my mom kept a dusty coffee machine across the country just for when you came to visit. I knew you were in town when I could smell the brew permeating the floor in my room first thing in the morning. I don’t remember what I ordered, but knowing me, it was probably a mocha (cause chocolate, duh). It wasn’t exactly the sweet treat I’d always thought it could be, (cause Starbucks, duh) but I loved the warm feeling it gave me and I was instantly revitalized.
While we were in Peru, you used to have me ask Sra Santander (remember her?) to make you some coffee, and she happily brewed it for you before we went to our service learning project. You didn’t really speak much Spanish anymore, and I was halfway through my IB curriculum in Spanish 4, so I translated for you.
When I lived with you in Seattle, it would be normal for me to wake up to an empty house and sneak over to the TV and turn it on first thing. Once you got wind of this, I opened the cabinet for the tv and found an extensive list of chores taped to the TV. Once was enough for me to learn, I started to not open the tv and acted like I didn’t know the chores list was in there, so you just started to call me instead.
Everywhere I went, I was so proud to be called “Zinda’s nephew.” Everyone knew me through you from the impact you have on everyone around you. I felt the respect everyone had for you bleed into respect and expectation of me, and that terrified me. How could I live up to that monumental example? Especially anybody that knew Cobe.
From the time I was born, I’ve known you and Cobe. My mom relishes telling other people the story of how I was so excited to see your son, that I ran out of the shower, out of the house stark naked to welcome him. Both of you, pillars in my life and adolescence, guiding me with a soft hand towards my future without demanding I meet the bar you’ve set. Cobe became the older brother I'd never had, and you became a second mother, not an aunt.
I remember the smell of the coffee and the scowl on your face when the owner of Sole Brother wouldn’t let you shop in the store with your cup in hand. “Can’t you just trust me to be an adult,” you questioned, and he couldn’t just let it go. I was sick because it was the weekend of my highschool graduation and you’d definitely taken me there so you could buy me that one pair of floral Janoski SBs I really wanted. Rather than put down your cup, you told me you wouldn’t spend a dime in that store, and I couldn’t blame you for that.
You made it a point to be at every graduation, at every milestone achievement. You’re there, front row, giant smile beaming across your face. Now that I’m an adult, I know all those flights from Seattle to Norfolk aren’t cheap, but you and Uncle Don made that sacrifice because it means that much to y’all. When I graduated from A&T, you heard one of the tables sing the boring ass version of “happy birthday” and couldn’t accept it. So you led a version of Stevie Wonder’s version that filled the entire restaurant swept out into the street and had people looking in from outside to see what the ruckus was about.
When you started quilting out of grief, you made sure mom and I were the first to get a couple. I still have the one that you made for me in college on my bed to this day. 10 years of sleeping under your protection and love and I’ll never take it for granted.
I’ve never met somebody as energetic as you. To be honest, I still don’t know how old you are because it never really mattered to you. When you were somewhere in your early 50’s (I think) you were out there playing soccer and kickball with highschool freshmen and leaving us all in your dust. Your energy was vibrance itself, sitting in a room with you felt like sitting next to a warm, organic, light.
A small sun.
I had my first cup of coffee without you today.
It’s not like I always had you around whenever I drank one, but I like to imagine you’re somewhere smirking every time I brew a new one. This one wasn’t all that great. It’s not that it was brewed any differently than normal, but I added salt from my eyes to the blend. I was driving back to my apartment in the DMV after Thanksgiving, and as the rain pattered outside and inside my car, I couldn’t help but think how coffee would never taste the same.
I’ve had plenty of cups of coffee that tasted better than that crappy airport starbucks one 12 years ago. Yet somehow, that first one that I enjoyed with you will always be the best.
Addendum (1/29/23)
We put you to rest last month, two days after Christmas. The service was so beautiful, and the house was packed, just like Cobe’s. Family came together and buried old hatchets, swapped stories, and rejoiced at having you in our lives.
I’d heard the stories about your short boxing career as a kid, but mom found footage of you clocking that woman in the ring. When it played at the service, the entire room gasped loud as all hell.
I went downtown with Devlin, and you know everybody that’s anybody knows him. Every one of them knew you too. The one that stood out to me the most was a guy who knew you because you coached his little sister in track. He told me how much you affected everyone, and you’re the reason he celebrates Kwanzaa to this day, and he wasn’t even on the team. You left a lasting impact on everyone, and I know that’s what you wanted.
I love you.
-E.