It's hard to imagine that almost one year ago to the minute, I sat at this very computer and typed up a farewell message for my mother who passed on October 12, 2005.
Parts of me are still offended at the audacity displayed by a world which has decided to move on despite the loss of the most important and wonderful person in my life.
Parts of me celebrate randomly the memories and sayings of a woman who often created her own language.
Parts of me are angry at hospitals and cancer and her.
Parts of me just want a hug that I'll never get again.
In one year, I still have not gone through most of my mother's things. That has been too hard.
What I have tried to do is invoke her spirit and tell her story wherever I can: during standup, MCing the recent Black Alumni Weekend at Harvard, and in this very blog.
Over the next year, I will push to tell that story more aggressively and across more media. She left me a tremendous collection of LPs which will make their debut in the podcast. I have some incredible in-the-moment conversations of our drive West across the USA, moving Ma to Tacoma, WA. And there is more.
So stay tuned for years more of the story and spirit of Arnita L Thurston. And many thanks to friends and strangers among you who have send love and support and flowers and chocolates in the past year. You are appreciated (even if I haven't emailed all of you back).
Everything else is irrelevant and imadertia.
I miss you, Ma.
- Baratunde, son of Arnita