Reflections Of You - My Tribute to Mrs. Sabrina Leon Davis

Heart-to-heart time, my Lovelies.

When you were young, you were so carefree, you had no worries, and the future was for old farts like your parents. You did cartwheels, played freeze tag, played double dutch, ate junk food until you got sick, played hide & seek, and watched cartoons Saturday morning. In the 70’s, a dollar got you a bag of Doritos, a Pepsi, a Snickers, a SuzyQ, and the leftover was penny candy. The weekends were those magical days when you weren’t chained to a desk in Ms. Richardson’s class for the five days during the week that ruined your life.

The summer was freedom from the bondage of education, and you celebrated by going to the pool, cruising the park, Skate King, Six Flags, or otherwise moped around complaining about there’s nothing to do and nothing to watch.

You had to be careful about telling your parents you had nothing to do; they’d FIND you something to do! 

Having a boyfriend meant that the little punk up the street bought you candy, and all yall did was hold hands; maybe kiss on the cheek. This was between the ages of 7 and 10, mind you. Back in the 70’s, there was no Frenching, and the word “sex” was never mentioned. Hanging out with friends, getting in trouble, seeing who could do an Indian split, and being a kid was the best job in the world.

You couldn’t wait until you grew up so you could be grown, be on your own, and not having to put up with your beastly overbearing parents. You don’t think about bills, mortgages, getting married and having children, and going to work. Vacations are now once a year, if any, for a week at a time, and since you were married with lame, evil, bratty kids, vacations are about visiting the In-Laws, who probably hate your guts because they meant for him to marry their best friend's daughter, not you.

The world was black and white; yes or no; up or down; chocolate milk or that nasty milk.

It was when you grew up that the colors began to blend, and then fade to gray. You’ve become that old fart, and your parents, who seemed so old to you back in the day, are really old and are now at that age where they need care. It's not easy caring for elderly parents, some of who require constant care, plus manage your own house and pay for your kids’ college. That strapping 6’2, 250lb father who used to carry you on his shoulders like you were a feather is now a frail 120 lbs., sick with lung cancer, and can’t remember your name or his own. Worse, you wake up in the morning to the sounds of the police banging on your door. Your dad got up at 2:00am and wandered to the other side of town on his own and they were bringing him home; either because they've done it several dozen times, or he has a medical alert bracelet with you name and number.

As you look into the almost dim eyes of your elderly parents or parent, you would do anything to have those carefree days of your youth back. What you see when you look at them is your own future. But you can’t. The clock doesn’t wind backwards.

Then you look in the mirror at yourself. How did I get so old? Where did all this fat come from? Is that a grey hair…ON MY CHIN? Where there used to be muscle tone is now covered with dimples, and not the Shirley Temple kind either. Where there used to be flawless skin is now covered in those ugly tags. People always tell me I don’t look 49 years old, but I see it. I don’t have crows’ feet…but I see my age. I feel it too.

Time stood still as a child. As an adult, it’s accelerating so fast that I can’t catch my breath.

As a child, it was “hurry up!” As an adult, it’s “wait a moment – please!”

My back moans and creaks like a submarine when I get out of bed. I need glasses to see fine print. I need to know where the bathroom is when I go anywhere; as I child, I could hold it for hours. As an adult, I won’t even risk it. Sucking your gut in doesn’t matter because one; you can’t really hide that much belly hang, and two; you don’t have the lung capacity.

When I think of the time I was 20-something, it was nearly thirty years ago. Where did the time go? You begin to wonder what you could have done differently in your youth that would have made things better for you, now that you’re that old fart you used to laugh at as a kid. I remember being in my teens and 20’s ready to punch somebody in the face for stepping on my shoes or some other egregious insult. Now at nearly nine months away from 50, I’d walk 10 miles to get away from an argument, much less a fight. It’s not that I’m scared, but I’m not sure my bones won’t go brittle if I punch someone.

That, and yeah I’m scared. These young thunder cats and kitties fight with guns now. They don’t care about doing time either.

Aging is a part of life. You hear that all of your life, but until you reach middle age, you don’t think about it like that. You see forever; death is something that you don’t think about until it happens. You’ve pretty much stopped going to the club because as a 20-something, you were the hottest thing in stilettos. In your 30’s, you’ve become that old head in denial and can’t let go of your youth.

Worse, they call you “cougar” or "pops."

Let me tell you something funny – when I was a young kid, and I mean between 9 – 11 years, I used to think that when you died, you went back to Mississippi. No, for real - let me repeat that: I thought that when you died, you went to Mississippi. I even had a visual of what I thought the entire state looked like. Remember that movie "Sounder?" I must have gotten it off that. I had never been there up until that point. Why the State of Mississippi, I’m not sure; I think it’s because my family is based out of Lumberton and Mound Bayou. 

Stop laughing! I was a kid! I really thought that!

It wasn’t until a four-year old cousin (correction - mom said he was four, not three) died after choking to death on a penny in 1976 that I finally understood what death was, cuz I thought my cousin, Phutah Amun, caught the Greyhound to Mississippi. However, my mother, realizing that I didn’t truly understand death, set the record straight. I learned something that summer, and it made a lasting impression on me, and would stick with me for the rest of my life.

Death is inevitable…and forever.

Which brings me to this blog entry. A friend of mine died the other day, and I’m trying to find the words to describe how I feel.  Oddly enough, I have never met her face-to-face, but I feel as though I’ve known her all of my life. Sure, I have my ABC’s that I grew up with, but those online that I call my friends have become just as much of a family to me as my real family. I met Sabrina Leon Davis, or “Sensuous” as we knew her…

“Knew.” I originally typed, “know.” This is hard.

…anyway, I met Sen on the original TJMS board. When the Girlcott happened, we navigated to a site that I created called “Warm Chocolate Honey.” From there, many of us got to know each other and built friendships that now transcend cyberspace. I shared my life, they shared theirs, and we felt like a family; complete with our ups and downs, fights, ignoring, cussing out, and everything else in between were pregnancies, marriages, deaths, divorces, career changes, and career problems. We all have our families and friend in our for real lives of course, but we shared a special sister/brotherhood that still hold solid today.

Sen wasn’t just your average person. Oh no, she was a straight Diva and a trendsetting Diva on top of that. I loved her selfies. She was so out there with her hair, make-up, fashion sense and glam choices. Ole girl could rock some pink lipstick, and blue hair before it became the thing. I wish I could duplicate her pink lipstick look, but It looked horrible on me. I secretly hated on her for it.

We’d all chat about everything from fashion to what her cutie pie daughter Breezy was doing. If you didn’t see a selfie from Sen, you felt like you missed out on something. Don’t let us get started on Real Housewives of Atlanta. It was all evening discussion about what the ladies were wearing, doing and the hideous make-up choices. Oh yeah, and the drama.

It was weird that the show premiered this Sunday, November 9^th. I was writing, tweeting, watching the show, and Facebooking at the same time (yeah, I’m a multitasking fool). When the show went off, I got into a twitter discussion and later realized that no one had started a RHOA thread, namely Sen. I was tired; having editing the Immortal Anthologies series all day and well into the evening, but I openly wondered why Sen hadn’t said anything, especially about NeNe Leakes’ horrific pancake make-up during “See What Happens.” I told myself I’d check in Monday evening, when I knew there’d be a post on the show.

However, just before noon on November 10^th, I got a text from Linda telling me that Sen had passed away Sunday. You know, we at WCH are about the facts, ma’am; just the facts, and we will bury you if you don’t produce said facts, but why would she text me and tell me something like that? I called her and the tears just began to flow. No, not Sen. Not the beautiful, young, healthy, vivacious Sabrina with three children, among them, a 20-year old son and an 11-year old son, and the adorably cute little 6-year old Breezy.

It can’t be.  I’m sure I heard her wrong.

No, I didn’t. It was true and real. She had a pulmonary embolism, a blood clot that ended up in her lungs and killed her.

I’m old, fat as sin, unhealthy as all out get out, and this young, beautiful woman was gone. Someone with her whole life ahead of her, and she was gone. Just like that.

I don’t understand.

Oh, yeah…I found the words.

Rage.

Anger.

Incredible sadness.

Confusion.

Guilt.

Yeah, guilt. I think it’s because I began to question why I’m still here. I’m overweight, diabetic, have heart disease, and have the risk factors for what killed her, and here I am writing this blog and complaining about the creaking bones in my body and the fact I can’t read a medicine bottle without glasses, and this vivacious young woman is gone at the tender age of 42. How could someone with such young children be stolen like a thief in the night? See, I angrily rationalized that this is why I left Christianity. What kind of a god would take Sen from the world and away from a daughter who would need the guidance that only a mother could give? Then there’s her husband, Walter, left to pick up the pieces of his now broken family. How would he cope trying to be both father and mother to his orphaned children?

I was so sick, I came home from work and went to bed.

How am I still here?  Why am I still here?

I woke up this morning and realized that I’m looking at it all wrong. Death comes to all of us, at different times, and for different reasons. It happens to good people, bad people, people from all walks of life; from the very young to the very old. All organic life forms lives, and then dies. Redwood trees can live for centuries, but eventually they too will die. It’s inevitable and can strike at any time; in your sleep, or while you’re standing in line at a restaurant.

Death is defined simply as “the cessation of life,” meaning that the means of sustaining life has ended. The heart dies, the brain dies, renal function dies, and so the shell of the person ceases to take in breath and nourishment, and any sustainable functions stop.

When I finally understood death as a child, it terrified me. As an adult, it’s still scary, but I've learned to live with it. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I lived past 100; even 150. I think about ways to making myself live longer than anybody else on the planet. Then I realize how that sounds. Even if I lived to 150, my daughter and immediate grandchildren would not be there, and then I’d be a really old and really decrepit crusty fart giving people crap about my Cream of Wheat and thinking that I’m still sexy and fly. It’s a silly idea. We’re not meant to live forever.

We tend to internalize someone's death, either because we're in denial or it just seems so unreal, especially when a young person has died. I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, and I won’t worry about it. I’ll live each day as though the sunset will be the last one I’ll ever see. I would prefer to go painlessly and probably as quickly as possible. I’m a Buddhist and believe that the soul drifts to the next life, so in a way, my soul will live on forever, even if I have to do it in another fabulous life.

I will miss Sabrina “Sensuous” Leon Davis. I’ll miss her beautiful smile, her hot sense of fashion, and her unwavering support of the Dallas Cowboys. I’ll miss her updates, and seeing pictures of Little Breezy. As a Buddhist, I don’t think of her as going to a heaven and looking down on her loved ones; I see her as moving on to her next life and making a tremendous impact on those who are deserving of such a fabulous Diva.

Just Fierce!

 ((((((((((Sen)))))))))))

To her family, Walter, Erick, Walter Jr. and Brielle, my deepest and most sincerest condolences to you on the loss of this beautiful human being. She was loved by you and by all she touched, even through the vast internet. I mourn her; her fellow WCH Brothers and Sisters mourn her. We'll never forget her and will only think of the beautiful person that she was who still shines brightly as she transitions to her next life.

Goodbye Sen, and thank you for allowing me into your wonderful world. Uh, say honey, when you get a second, check out how NeNe looked on ”See what Happens!” Girlllll…

~me~