Greetings!

It’s been a minute; but you know how it is; the heart is always willing but more often than not the weakened flesh cries “Cree” and I am back to, or sometimes behind, first base. But here I am today, sitting at my computer, feeling more than a little nudge, to share a few thoughts with you😊.

I trust that you have been doing well, passing hurricanes (from climatic and political changes and upheavals) and related disruptions notwithstanding. I hope also, that although the real chef de mission of Team Jamaica, to the Olympics, was Lot’s wife, you were still able to celebrate our athletes and the tremendous sacrifices they continue to make, ‘so that Jamaica may…’ Anyway, let me move on from this feeble attempt at small talk, and get to the topic at hand.

Those of you who know me know that I have three brothers, whom I love to the moon and back. Now grown men, they were once boys with whom, growing up, I sometimes quarrelled and fought. Today, they are grey-haired men – husbands, fathers, grandfathers. Perfectly at peace with their imperfections, they continue to mellow with maturity, and make my heart glad, when in addressing me, they use the simple yet loaded moniker – Sis!

The eldest has for some time now, not been very well. Having suffered a stroke, almost three years ago, making his short-term memory and physical acuity, somewhat compromised. This still handsome, six feet seven inches head turner, has become increasingly quiet. During those times when we speak, I have to be prepared to do most of the talking. One thing remains steadfast, however, is the way he addresses me. These days, he speaks softly and slowly, but whether or not he is in a talkative mood, his name for me is “GC,” the first letters of my given names, Georgia Cecile. When, therefore, even via telephone, I hear the words: “Hey GC,” I know and feel the love that my big brother has for me, and I am thankful.

Then there are the other two: one older, and the other, younger than me. Like the eldest, they too are head turners, each standing above six feet and having inherited the best physical features of both our parents. They all live in the United States and so, it isn’t very often that I see them. Though sometimes its complexities get on my last nerve, I am still grateful for WhatsApp, which allows us to speak with reasonable regularity, sharing prayers, stories, anecdotes, and concerns, with each other, conscious of the fact that the separation of miles is easily and always bridged by love.

Recently, I took a trip to Florida, to visit with the older brother who lives there. To my utter surprise, waiting for me at his home, was my little bro and his wife, who travelled from California for the occasion. I didn’t think they could do anything else to surprise me, so happy was I, just being with them. Well, aided and abetted by the wives, with help from a Sister-friend who will remain nameless, the real surprise was the party they threw to celebrate my birthday, with me having not the slightest clue that anything was afoot.

It was a very informal but oh so special gathering of special people – ten to be exact. I was brought to tears by the simple yet profound nature of the gesture. The love that was at the heart of every sentiment expressed was superbly complimented by the delightful meal prepared by my niece, and the joy-filled aura that permeated the atmosphere. These days, I struggle with pain as my lower back and knees seem to be hatching a sinister plot to overthrow and do me harm. But moments like that shared with my brothers and friends, serve to strengthen my resolve to count my blessings, and be surprised by the delightful scheming of the divine.

These three, however, unique, and special as they are, do not constitute the only men in my life. Yes, you heard right! I count myself supremely blessed, to have a small but significant number of brothers from other mothers. These are men whose love, friendship, and genuine care, may be summed up in one word – priceless!

Now, I am not going to call any names, but I know that should any of them read this, each will know that I am talking about him, and more, that I hope he will know how loved and appreciated he is.

I begin with the one who hails from the land of pan, the man who will call me every week, just to check up on me and, as he would say – “I just want hear yuh voice.” Then, there is the one I call for everything and sometimes nothing. Kind to a fault, and with a sense of humour that rivals his teddy bear frame. There is also the one who, having studied engineering, is a musical giant of a man, who makes me laugh every time, by the comical way he says “Grace Jervis!” There is yet another, who tells me I am his favourite priest, calls me by my middle name Cecile and for whose generosity, I am forever grateful.

Different from each other, in stature, temperament, and outlook, some are quietly caring…of the fact for example, that my morbid fear of croaking lizards, rather than a stiff rebuke, requires providing an aerosol tin with a substance that is lethal. There yet remains some whom I have neither seen nor spoken to in years and yet, were they to show up later this week, it would be as if no time had elapsed since our last encounter. Quietly or with fanfare, on or offstage, therefore, each continues to play his role in the continuing drama that is my life, my applause and shouts of encore, being the loudest!

So, to the men in my life, whether near or far away, I salute you! Because of you, I have experienced love that asks nothing in return, except knowing that with you, I can always be…me!

Until next time, continue to be safe as you remain in His grip.

Grace+