A Holiday Death

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Have you ever experienced death? If you're seeing these words, you're alive. Consider literacy and eyesight two blessings.

By this opening question, I am asking you to contemplate your mortality. In 2024, we lost Nikki Giovanni, James Earl Jones, Quincy Jones, family, and friends. One day, the list of ancestors will include our names.

This post covers a heavy topic for a holiday week, but don't drop this challenge to imagine the end. Don't worry; I am not going to ask you to picture yourself as the main character in the film It's a Wonderful Life.

Perhaps you momentarily passed away on the operating table before doctors revived you or had a near-fatal car accident. If either of these unfortunate events happened to you, you likely placed them in the recessions of your mind.

My most recent close encounter with death happened three days before moving from Antigua.

When I pulled up to the gym at 5 AM, the police had the street blocked off to motorists and pedestrians. After explaining to one officer that I wanted access to the gym, he hesitated, advised me to stay on one side of the street, but allowed me to pass the barrier.

I walked until a different officer sitting on a concrete stair stopped me. "Sir, you can't walk here," he said.

"I'm going to the gym," I replied, pointing toward the entrance.

He nodded and permitted me to proceed. I took a few steps and glanced to my right at yellow markers with numbers on the ground.

I later found out about a 22-year-old man murdered in the moments before I arrived on the scene. Police have yet to release many details, but the homicide occurred within inches of where I have parked my car on countless occasions.

The murder in St. Johns was one of multiple close calls I had with death while living in Antigua and Barbuda for six years. While running before sunrise, I frequently leaped to the side of single-lane roads to avoid speeding motorists. Stray dogs would also sometimes chase me.

Crimes, reckless drivers, and dogs were not factors in my decision to leave the island. For the most part, Antigua is one of the safest places to live. I left for a better employment opportunity.

I accepted the Scholar of Residence role with the Umoja Community Education Foundation. In January, my primary responsibilities will include conducting research, writing articles, mentoring staff, and helping to facilitate culturally relevant programs at community colleges in California and Washington.

Umoja's CEO offered me the position last Thursday. I agreed to the terms and moved with my family in less than one week. We quickly left to secure housing before the holidays, enroll the children in school, and prevent a gap in paychecks.   

I have relocated three times between multiple countries, and each experience has resembled a major life transition. It's comparable to death.

Perhaps you read that last sentence and thought equating moving to death is extreme. Let me explain.

You're still here. Good.

When you die, you can't take anything with you, but imagine placing everything you own into two suitcases.

You only have fifty pounds per bag, so you can't take your car, furniture, television, and most of your books. Before you leave, family and friends say their goodbyes and buy or take many of your possessions. You donate plenty of items because airline baggage limits restrict the types of items allowed on flights.

Donations include your massive loving dog and two annoying cats, among other valuables.

Memories remain, but you must discard years of ideas and experiences captured in journals.

Unlike death, you can take your immediate family members with you. Although technology makes it possible to stay connected with extended family and friends wherever you land, you will lose contact with most people in your inner circle.

Were you able to picture the move described above? What items would you pack?

The critical pieces in your hypothetical suitcases reflect your core values. Everything else is just stuff.

When you consider losing possessions, family, friends, pets, and aspects of your lifestyle, it's not too difficult to describe moving between countries as the end of a life.

I will keep sharing reflections and observations as we readjust to the States. Our first few days have been intense with trying to meet housing, food, and transportation needs, but thankfully, the family has helped us significantly during this season of Christmas carols and Kwanzaa kinaras. Subscribe here to get the next post delivered to your inbox and a free E-book.

Happy holidays.