Cliff’s Funeral
I remember watching Mike and Cliff play together even before we moved next door to him: Mike, green-eyed with hair bleached whitey-blond in the summer sun; Cliff, dark coffee complexion and laughing brown eyes~they looked like negatives of each other. I remember Mike, Jeff, Cliff, Daquita, Anthony and probably Missy attempting to dig a tunnel from the sidewalk to our apple tree. Oh, and throwing those damned apples. When did they grow apart? I don’t remember, exactly: I think it was when Cliff’s parents divorced and he moved away. Maybe it was a natural divergence in interests, though. Or was it race? I don’t know. Hadn’t really thought much about it, I guess. Life gets busy and it’s easy to just compartmentalize memories and move on. I’d run into Cliff’s mom now and then, and, of course, see his dad as we handled outdoor chores. We kept loose tabs on how the kids were doing, Cliff, and Anthony, and Daquita. Beautiful kids. Great potential, these kids of ours. We had seen Anthony and ‘Quita in recent years, but haven’t seen Cliff for what~10? 15? years.
And then last week we read that Clifford Cummings, Jr. had been stabbed during a home invasion and had died at the hospital. Cliff, of the laughing brown eyes and wiry frame. Cliff, who ran a recording studio now. Cliff, veteran of the Gulf War. Cliff, Mike’s childhood friend. Gone just like that.
Mike came home for the funeral, to say goodbye. When I went up to her, Antoinette just said “Don’t make me cry!” and we hugged. What could be said, after all, between us? What do you say to a mom who lost a 38 year old son to an act of such elemental violence?
I just wish we’d stayed in better touch over the years, that’s all.
I just wish I’d known Cliff as an adult.
I just wish knives and guns weren’t the goddamn go-to responses in arguments.
April 29th, 2010 at 11:48 am
For as uncommunicative as I am, you seem to know several of the thoughts floating around in my head for the last week and a half.
I’ve started writing about this whole mess on three separate occassions but am never able to finish – it’s too hard. Thanks for putting some of it into words when I still feel unable to do so.
April 29th, 2010 at 11:53 am
Such a waste. I’m so sorry for Clifford’s family. For Mike’s lost friend. For all the unnecessary violence and hatred in the world. This was a wonderful tribute to a young man, neighbor and friend.
April 30th, 2010 at 11:57 pm
I’ve been unable to express my feelings, too. Reading the updates, checking the obituary, remembering the past — I just get overwhelmed and a little numb. I’m glad you were there and I hope the families are doing well.