On The Lakefront

Chapter 1

1

Pack It Up

“Aiden Phillips,” she called my name as I was packing my overnight suitcase, “I know you hear me talking to you.”

By the time I finished packing, I had looked up. Joanne was standing at my open bedroom door. All of 5 feet 2 inches with a low salt and pepper afro, this lady stared at me with a puzzled look on her face.

“I know my child. He is not a morning person,” she huffed. “So…”

“Uh, mama. You must have forgotten the Wayne concert is today.” I gave an explanation. “Me and Danielle going to the concert. Even though it’s later on tonight, I wanna go see her and my cousins and be at Momo Jean’s house.”

I peeked into her eyes, and I figured what was next. I reached for her and embraced her, crying with her. During that embrace, I thought of everything that little lady meant to me.

Jean Pierre Phillips, or Momo Jean, had died on August 24, five days before the 14th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. At 88, she passed in her sleep. Momo was an exceptional mother to her four children, Joanne, my mom & her oldest, John, David, Jr., and her deceased son, Connor. Of course, she was a wonderful grandmother to her eight grandchildren, Regina, David the III, Melissa, Jacob, Terrence, Jackson, Danielle, and me. She had loved us all equally, but the closest ones to her were my mommy and me. We embodied her giving spirit and family values; also, we exhibited her kindness, strength, and other ways. The only time she became frantic with my parent was when mom stayed in Marais Vert, a suburban area town 45 minutes away from Downtown Baton Rouge. Momo Jean preferred to move back home, but mom did not. However, her frustrations were short-lived as she welcomed that 2-hour drive to come and stay with us sometimes. It was especially true when one of her other kids got on her nerves or when she wished for a quieter scene.

She was no longer on this earth. Her burial was as grand as her heart was. Everyone said their goodbyes at the beginning of the function. The end of the service did not include a final viewing. It would be hard for the family to handle. Mom and I were the last people to view her. I was told by the funeral director how to tuck in my beloved Momo Jean. Then my mother and I gazed at her peacefully rested face and closed the casket together. The choir went through a musical barrage of contemporary gospel and old n***o spirituals. Pastor Fredrick McKee, the Pastor of Agape Faith, eulogized her with tremendous personal antidotes and positive remarks on how she dedicated her life to God, family, and friends. The pallbearers moved in front of the casket while we were heading out. That is when our sentiments took hold of us. I hugged mom then like I was hugging her now. We relived that moment that changed our lives.

“I’m sorry, son. I notice this is the first time you are traveling to the city since mama’s death. How will you handle being at the house?” she asked. She realized she would set off some concerns.

“Well, mommy, Danielle is meeting me up there. She knows, and you are aware I am a terrible driver,” I state as my mom’s laugh comes flying. “Jackson and Terrence will be there. More than likely, Jacob will appear. So we all be at the house.”

“How will you take it if Jim and Melissa arrive and visit?” she asked with concern, “I don’t need to run down there, huh?”

“Mommy, I put it behind me. He knows what he did. Pretty sure she realizes it too. He will always be a creep I try to ignore,” I stated with remorse. I didn’t want my thoughts to be about them. My mom nor I spoke to him, but we embraced my cousin. After all, she was family no matter what happened in the past.

“Ok, just be careful and here,” she said as she tossed me an orange medicine bottle, “make sure you pack these.”

“Thanks, ma,” I said as I placed them in my bag. I guess I was ready to face my emotions and fears.