The Sun Will Rise Again


While on the phone confiding to my mother a pile of fears, wondering what I was going to do, Rayford (a.k.a. Raye) called. Concerned a family member may be in the hospital, I quickly ended my conversation to accept Raye’s call. “Ruth!?” asked Rayford with her aged yet still strong, sweet voice. “No, Raye,” I responded, "It’s Adrienne, Junior’s granddaughter.”

After so long into the conversation I asked Raye how she was doing, other than having trouble with pesky phones. “Good, except for the blindness,” she answered matter-of-factly. At ninety-four, she is still sharp, dresses well, walks where she remembers things to be, and applies lipstick.

While listening to her, I recalled bits of her life. Two beloved husbands, siblings, and her only biological son passed. So many mishaps and several broken bones from accidents over the years. My grandfather’s first cousin was tough. She had survived so much. Still keeping a smile and positive attitude, remembering to be grateful for her blessings.

Oddly, after conversing with Rayford I felt better. Maybe her memories still live on in a powerful way, reminding life does go on. Sometimes it helps to know someone has survived and keeps living. Raye is an example of that with beautiful blue eyes which light up with company. During my last visit, she offered a grand smile before walking toward the cafeteria with the aide of a walker, exclaiming, “You have to do what you got to do.”

We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.
— Winston Churchill