June
Tania asked me to meet her at this place. At first, I questioned if I even wanted to come. I knew I was starting this new trusting process, and although we had dinner, it didn’t stop there.
When she pulled up alongside me, she smiled and waved before getting out of the car. I pulled my helmet off and stared at her.
“Why are we here? You trying to back door a nigga?”
I got off my bike with my helmet placed between my arms. She handed me a single orange rose. “Follow me.”
My lips tightened as my feet stepped on the grass.
With each step I took, it felt like a bit of weight was lifted from my shoulders.
It felt like I was close to that finish line.
Emotions ran through me like I was a child.
Countless names caught my eye, but when she stopped, and I saw her name, I blew out a sharp breath.
Tania turned to me. “June, I want you to meet our mother, Grace King. Mom, your son June is here.”
My head dropped as my eyes slowly closed. Tania’s hand rubbed my back. “I’m going to leave you two alone. All you have to do is talk to her; she’s listening. I love you, brother,” she whispered.
I said nothing as her footsteps took to the grass and slowly disappeared.
I stared at the headstone, unsure of what to say.
This wasn’t what I imagined when I thought of meeting my birth mother for the first time.
Even with all the things said about her—how evil she was, how she tormented Anthony, how she was out of touch with her kids—it didn’t change the fact that she was a mother.
I kneeled and placed the orange rose onto her grave.
“All this time I’ve been thinking of the what ifs.
I almost died trying to see you. I’ve gone through hell and back to reclaim a name, and I’ve faced off with my own blood only to realize that God taking me away from you was the best decision He’d made.
Grace, I’ve longed to hear you say I love you, son, or feel your warm hugs, but you had that chance with Anthony, and you took it for granted.
I don’t hate you because I don’t know you.
I know losing me wasn’t your fault, but you had the chance to get it right with Anthony.
Sleep well, Grace, and maybe in the afterlife I’ll get the pleasure of meeting a better version of you.
Your lost son, June Calloway. Amen,” I finished and stood.
Stepping away from her grave made me feel different. I wasn’t sad or mad; I was content. I knew now that I could close that chapter in my life and focus on what was truly important. I could speak my truth, even if it hurt.