"Being a Negro in America means trying to smile when you want to cry. It means trying to hold on to physical life amid psychological death. It means the pain of watching your children grow up with clouds of inferiority in their mental skies. It means having their legs off, and then being condemned for being a cripple." Where Do We Go From Here 1967.
Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to a woman that I've known for almost all of my life. She was a kind, sweet hearted 65-year-old woman named Phyllis Dixon, I'd known Ms. Phyllis between 10-11 years, and I'd grown fond of her and her children who are my parents age, I could tell that when I saw her in her final resting place that she was finally going to be with the ones that she loved, her late husband and Jesus Christ, she was a very spiritual woman with a heart as big as the Grand Canyon, and feeling to her that said; listen to me because I'm trying to help you, I will always work to help you. Ms. Phyllis was in my top-4 elderly female advisers which means she was one of the four women that were older which meant to me that they were wiser and more experienced, I had put her in this category because I knew that she'd be able to give me wisdom that I'd never dream of before and because I knew that she'd always be able to be depended on. I was able to send my regards to her family and I'm sure they accepted it, because to them I felt like family. I will always miss Ms. Phyllis but she will never be gone because she'll always be in the hearts of the ones she loved, and the ones that loved her.