Upside down- Dedicated to my late father Ronnell Carter

Azaria Pittman-Carter

1/23/2020

                                                         UPSIDE DOWN

‘Dedicated to the late Ronnell Eion Dejenai C.’

February is supposed to be the month of love...the month where you see the most red, beautiful hearts and valentines day ads scattered everywhere you turn. The month of February is supposed to feel warm, filled with chocolate, candies and multiple kisses. The month of February is supposed to feel great, celebratory and triumphant. Not sad, helpless, filled with grief and despair. February isn't supposed to feel empty at all, if one would ask why I feel so passionately about this specific month I would bluntly say. ‘On the 18th day of February I was born’ so maybe that's why I have so many expectations for a month with just twenty eight days. Knowing that I was born on February 18th is vital to my life’s story, not just because I was born but also because I was beautifully crafted. A beautiful black baby created half and half, chromosome and chromosome to Margaret Pittman and Ron Carter. Ironic how I lost one of the halves of my foundation in the month of red that is supposed to be filled with love, passion and ultimately great for me. In the cold February of 2004 it wasn't just red, but the month bled red as well, the month cried, and a part of me died. 

[February 9th, 2004]

    It was a muggy morning in Springdale, Ohio the sunlight of 9 a.m. shining through the patio window. I remember taking my little hand that morning and wiping the fog off our patio window, feeling the cold condensation, and cold water droplets left sitting on my right hand. It was one of those mornings where you could smell the dew through the patio window, God I hate that smell. Maybe it was too pungent and fresh for my little nose to grasp at the time, which is why I didn’t open the patio that morning. I lived in a small two bedroom apartment, the apartment was so spacious with almost nothing in it…this didn't bother me though. I knew my parents didnt have alot and they never cared for materialistic things like big TV’s, Radios, or the newest tech craze hitting the early 2000’s. I was constantly reminded and told ‘At least you have a roof over your head’. Honestly as long as four year old me had room to do flips, hop around, run around, and play with my two little sisters Deja and Eiona it was all fine with me. Afterall in our family, the importance of togetherness was stressed…I was taught that if you have a family, what else do you really need?  At this time my mom was pregnant, and the family was growing once again, I was there to witness all my siblings in the belly of my mom. Perks of being the first I guess. I remember rubbing her belly everyday hoping it was a boy, my sisters were already too much to handle. Pregnant mommy, Deja, Eiona, grandma, and me...daddy didn't live with us but there wasn't a day that went by I didn't see my father or I wasn't with my father. On this muggy, pungent  morning I happened to not be with my father, my daddy was gone... mommy said he was going to file his taxes. I was sure of it because whatever my daddy said or was doing I wholeheartedly believed, If my daddy were to tell me buildings could get up and walk, I’d sit and wait, wait and wait until they got up and walked. I believed in him as if he was a guru or a deity of some sort, I thought my father knew all the answers...Pa was my dictionary. I listened to him and respected him more than any other being, I believe this was visible to him...I hope he saw the respect and honor constantly bleeding from my beady eyes. 

    I stayed home this morning from preschool. This was not a regular thing because my mom didn't play about going to school well for me I guess. I was the only one of my siblings who went into preschool. Already a lazy child because my preschool was directly across the street, reminds me of myself being lazy in my life now and always being close to the things I skip. Mommy didn't play about school, BUT,  Pa said I didn't have to go, so I didn’t have to go. Daddy’s word was something everybody took seriously, I think that's why my mom let me stay home that day. I wish she didn't listen to me and Pa that day and made me go to school. Before my dad left I told him I wanted to wait for him until he came back, I said this that day as if he was never coming back.

 February 9th, 2004 my whole life turned upside down.

    My mom was standing in our bathroom when her cellphone rang, knowing my mom she always lets it ring at least three times before she picks up. She always looks down at her phone, then she looks around as if someone is spying on her and always after she looks around and the third ring goes off- she picks up the phone. I knew something was wrong because my mom's expression changed. It became grotesque and bitter as if she bit into a lemon. Her aura and mood changed as if a dark cloud came over her,  those three rings she waited for were foriegn today. She didn’t wait...before this day I could always predict my mom's movements and what she would do next after this day she would become unpredictable. She picked up the phone swiftly, and immediately dropped to her knees so hard I thought her legs would shatter like glass. My mom held her heart, my mom gripped her nightgown as if she was grasping onto something for life, as if someone was pulling her into the depths of hell and she was holding on because she didn't want to go. She grabbed her hair as if she wanted to pull it all out, and my mother ...wept, wept, and wept on our cold bathroom floor. All I could do at the time was look at her as I stood in the living room, I stood there in shock and disbelief it felt as if my feet were sinking into the soft carpet because I didn't know who that sad woman on my bathroom floor was, soon I would get to know her though. My mom cried so loud it sounded as if she was calling for help and no one heard her, I’ve never seen my mother so lifeless, lying on the floor as if she wanted someone to rebirth her. My mom bellowed as if she was singing a song she wanted god to hear, I lost a part of the women I loved the most that day. My mom was never the same again. Part of me didn’t know what was going on at the time, it wasn't until the news came on.

 *BREAKING NEWS* 

On this day I saw my dad,  laid out like he was doing a snow angel with yellow tape all around him that read ‘caution’. His hair in honey brown braids like he always wore it, my dad had on his tan jogging suit one of my favorite jumpsuits he wore, I just remember sitting on my couch trembling with fear, my body was shaking hard, hard, and then harder as if I was malfunctioning. I did not cry though...I remember my grandmother at the time shouting to my mom “Margaret?! Margaret?! What happened are you okay?!`` she replied a shriek and she said with so much passion “DJ GOT KILLED! DJ IS DEAD, MY BABY IS GONE.” The day my mother fell to her knees on February 9th, 2004 my whole life turned upside down. I was waiting for  my dad to come home as if he was to never return and to my surprise he didn't. 

[ February 12th, 2004 ]

It has been three days since my father was murdered, I lay sleeping on my large air mattress in the small corner of a room I had at the time. The room was plain and unfurnished like the rest just four white walls, the air mattress, and me. The white walls in the room always made it seem so bright but after my daddy died everything seemed so dull to me, especially those walls. I remember tossing, and turning in my sleep every night of those 72 hours that had passed since my father was murdered. Having lucid dreams that he was still alive, still feeling his touch and his voice in my sleep. Dreams of us walking to the store like we usually did, or me sitting on his shoulders when we walked, Pa was my ride. Dreams of us watching the Simpsons like we usually do, I dreamed of our routine because Pa was my schedule. Only to wake up hot, sweaty and in grief wondering why he hasn’t been here or as many were saying wont be here. Sleeping like this started to become a regular thing. The same old dream, the same nasty sweat, and another sleepless night. This morning I woke up to a knock on my cracked door. 

*knock, knock, knock* 

‘Zariaaaaa’  I hear my mom call my name with a bit of excitement to her voice. She stressed and dragged out the last ‘a’ in my name like always. She says my name with excitement but you can tell she prepared herself before she came to my room, nothing about this was exciting. Thinking back my young ears paired that upbeat voice with excitement, but in reality my mom was frustrated and in pain. She was only excited because the mask of a mother she wore had to be, not for her but for me, my siblings and her pregnant self. She was hurt, looking back at it she looked dead as well, lifeless in the face just like she was when I looked at her crying on our cold bathroom floor. She looked so lifeless but even dead roses possess beauty, my mother was still so amazing to me. She looked at me and stood in my doorway as if she wanted to tell me a story or maybe even give me some reason but she simply said: 

‘Hey baby, your Nana asked if you wanted to write something for your dad's funeral…..I’ll help you write it don’t be scared, it's okay!’ 

 You can tell by the way my mom said this to me that this action was forced out of her, she said I’ll help you as if writing this would damage me. I’m glad she did because I was a writer before she knew I was, and though the words weren’t to poised they were mine and daddy was mine as well. He deserved all of my words. Ready to write; my mom stood in my doorway with the card the poem would be on in one hand pressed against the door with a blue pen in the other. 

‘Yes ma’am I’ll write something’  I replied with respect and so much pain...I just wanted to make my mom happy.

‘Yes ma’am I can do it!’  I said again this time with firmness, not because she didn't hear me but I  wanted her to know I heard her. 

I remember my mom standing in the doorway writing away you could tell she wanted to get this done now. ‘Come on let's get this done now so we don't have to think about it later’

‘Yes ma’am’ I replied again, there was nothing else for me to say, I had no words. My mom became my words for me, she prompted things out of me asking questions like

‘Do you want to say the clouds up there will be soft, you know like in the beginning of the Simpsons?’ 

‘Or you can talk about how bright it’ll be...like the colors of the rainbow’ 

‘You know he’s going to a way better place now right? And it’s going to be OK. Alright?’

My mom stressed these questions, she questioned me like a lawyer at the time or somebody who just wanted to know the truth. Which she did, she wanted to help me but also make it sound like the words were coming from me.

‘YEAH! Let's say the clouds will be soft like the Simpsons mommy, I like that!’

I shouted and exclaimed yeah when she brought these things up because I was excited, so happy that my dad got to be somewhere where the clouds were soft looking like the Simpsons intro. Somewhere that people said was so beautiful, other people just said the same thing my mom always said ‘He’s gone to a better place’. It was exciting to hear at first until I started to question myself asking things like: ‘Why didn't he take me?’ and ‘What place is better than being with us?!’, ‘Will  daddy ever come back from being up in the clouds?’ 

I was oblivious that my father was really gone, not gone like he went to the store or for a run like he usually did but this time forever. My mind was processing my father's death but I didn’t even know what death was yet or how it looked. I’d soon learn about death though, and get to know the grief that came along with her. It had been 72 hours since my father was murdered and I didn’t shed a tear, not because I wasn't sad but why cry if he was going to come back? My mind was everywhere and in a state of emergency, but I just kept waiting and dreaming of my dad. My whole life had already turned upside down and I still didn’t think it was real yet. On the day dedicated to love everything would begin to make sense.

[ February 14th, 2004 ]

I buried my heart on Valentines Day…

White laced dress socks, frilly black dress, black flats, and a bow to match. On love day we're all dressed in black, numb, and falling apart. It was the big day, we were going to bury my father. I knew this was coming, and I knew what burying was. I did it all the time hiding things outside and digging littles holes to bury some of my pet hermit crabs that died. BUT this wasn’t part of the plan, not with my dad of course. On love day everything clicked, my dad wasn’t coming back but why would they put my father in the ground?! I was so furious inside when I finally pieced the puzzle together, my dad wasn't coming back! I thought about why and how? And if all of this is true why didn’t anyone tell me?! This was not what I imagined when they said he’s going to a better place! THIS IS NOT THE SIMPSONS INTRO.! This was never a  part of the plan. I was so angry because my father was so sacred to me, his look, his hair and his whole being was god like to me. I didn't know how disrespect felt at the time but looking back I felt disrespected that they would even consider putting a man that great. My father! In the ground. And so I shook, and shook and I broke down as I cried. My father was really never coming back...I never felt so much pain, I was new to feeling it, but me and pain would get really acquainted after this day. I don’t know how that much grief and sorrow fit into one little body. On February 14th I saw a sea of black, sunglasses and lipstick covered cheeks filled with tears and regret. 

‘Goodbye Daddy.’

As I dropped the red rose into the pit, I realize the casket is closed now, my heart was 6 feet under, and my Pa too, I walked away wishing I didn't have to say Goodbye so soon.