Daughter Comes Home
Nickel comes home after five years. She arrives from the airport on a clear moonlit night and walks up our driveway singing out in her African American Grenadian tongue “So how you doing up there!” She is her mother, Jacqlyn calling up from the road “So what you cooking today girl? She is her father, Denis “How you so scarce these days!” And then she is Nickel again, walking, laughing, wrapping her arms wide and strong. Nickel is walking up our driveway a full bloom woman; despite the trials and hardships, despite the nightmare year she and her brothers found themselves in six years ago.
I remember the day Nickel’s Dad drowned. Maya, Theo and I were driving to visit a friend when Ms. Teresa flagged our car down and asked “Is it true Denis drown?” The familiar shock of disbelief settles in and we drive on in a thick silence. We drive slow waiting to see if the news repeats itself. It does when we see a van full of village people and Jacqlyn in the front, head down. We know the news is true by the slouched shoulders, the eerie silence in the back of the van spilling over. We know the news is true. Denis is dead. He drowned in a senseless death, in a shallow pool of sea water with his son on his back. He tripped and fell and accidently gulped water that traveled straight to his lungs. He could not redeem himself. He needed someone to at least turn him on his side, pound the middle of his back, make the water explode from his lungs and on to the boat he was lugged into. Nickel and her brothers are on the beach the day their dad drowned. As I begin writing this blog I realize it was seven years ago today.
Nickel’s Mom died a year later but not before hurricane Ivan licked up their house and all their belongings, and not before their Grandfather died soon after the hurricane. Jacqlyn took sick after Denis’ death and spent the last year of her life in and out of the general hospital. I was honored to be able to spend time with Jacqlyn the last months and days before she died. Denis, Jacqlyn and the kids were one of the first families I met here in the Village and I grew to be part of their family over the first several years here. The kids and I spent the last day with Jacqlyn in the hospital. We even witnessed Jacqlyn’s familiar sense of humor return for a short time on that last day. A man was visiting his elderly mother who was also dying. He broke down by the side of his mother’s bed and began to cry. Jacqlyn couldn’t believe that a grown man was crying and his mom hadn’t even died yet. “He crying? How a big man crying so? She dead? Eh eh big man crying so and she not even dead yet!” a burst of air spills from her mouth. Jacqlyn is laughing. We have not seen her laugh in months. All of us swallow back our giggles until they too spill out and we are laughing, laughing at the sheer unexpected joy of seeing Jacqlyn smile. Jacqlyn died the next day.
Not long after the deaths of their parents the kids were adopted by their Uncle and Aunt and moved to New York City. They left the only life they knew here in the village friends, community, church, schools. The very land their navel strings were buried was the very land they buried their parents. I know it has not been easy for all of them. Nickel and I kept in touch over the years through emails and phone calls. It was on the phone that I learnt Nickel was in love. “Does he treat you well?” I asked. Nickel answered with a burst of laughter and a “Yes and he is a she!” Nickel discovered her own natural loving self after leaving the only home she knew, after stumbling and tumbling through windy boulder ridden roads in NewYork and resettling in Maryland with the woman she loves and married soon after.
On the first night of Nickel’s arrival we share stories of the present and stories of the past. She shows me the tattoo she has embedded on the back of her shoulder, a tombstone with the words “ in loving memory of Denis and Jacqlyn”. She also parades a ring in front of my eyes and says, “Don’t you be worrying about me girl I am a married woman!”
I can’t help think how Nickel’s life would be different if her parents had not died and she remained on the island. Would she have discovered herself, discovered and exercised her right to love who she wanted to love? Would she have blossomed into the woman she is today? And even though we both would give our dreams away to have Jacqlyn and Denis here, we still took the time to wonder how life, as Nickel knows it today, would be. There is not a single slice of doubt that Nickel is who she is because of her two strong, courageous, resilient parents who resonate and shine their very presence in the love that swells from Nickel’s very being.
We look forward to her next Coming Home!
