Grief can roll over you like a dump truck driven by a drunk driver. That’s what happened to me last night. The assault was sudden and unexpected.
While sitting at my computer, I decided to reach out to a long-time friend, LaVerne Gill. She was also a former employer. I first searched for her on Facebook and discovered her last entry was in August 2018. We had corresponded online a few years before that, but until then, it had been decades since we touched base. I did a Google search.
There is an adage that says, “Be careful what you ask for because you might get it.” A parallel principle can apply when looking for something or someone – be careful what you search for because you may not get what you anticipated.
In hindsight, I’d have been better off if I’d left well enough alone because what my Google search brought was the last thing I expected: a YouTube video depicting a full-screen portrait of my friend beneath the title, Rev. LaVerne Gill Memorial Service.
To say that I was shocked is an understatement. My immediate thought was that it couldn’t be. Perhaps it was someone else with the same name, but the accompanying photo dispelled that notion.
I stared at the screen for the longest time, my hand cliching the mouse and my index finger hovering over the clicker. I felt compelled to click the arrow to start playing the two-hour video, but I dared not. How could I virtually attend her memorial service when it was just moments earlier that I learned she died three years ago? Had I not been sitting down, I would have fallen to my knees, covered my face with both hands, and wailed. Instead, I sat there, staring in disbelief at the screen until I suddenly began crying uncontrollably as my mind reeled back 36 years.
It was the summer of 1988. I had been searching for a part-time job to supplement the salary from my full-time position and came across an ad from the classified section in a newspaper. The editor was seeking a journalist for a local Weekly. I was not a journalist, but I knew I could write. My confidence was bolstered by my previous writing for various publications.
I called the listed number, and the editor was accommodating enough to schedule my interview during my lunch break the following day. The next day, I caught a cab to the office of the Metro Chronicle at the National Press Building.
I will always believe that my first assignment was a test to see if I could cut the muster. Following the interview and as I was preparing to leave to return to my “day” job, LaVerne asked if I’d like to review a play. Of course, I said I would.
She handed me two tickets and a press kit and told me to attend the play at The Studio Theater that night (Tonight! Say what? That was my first thought.). Then, she told me she needed me to turn in the assignment by noon the next day. (My second thought was, HUH? Tomorrow!)
“Can you do that?” She asked.
“Sure, I can,” I said, hoping that my voice would not reveal my sense of trepidation.
After getting off work, I hurried home, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed to the theater. I recruited my teenage daughter to accompany me. Reminding me she had school the next day did not save my reluctant companion.
The play The Mystery of Irma Vep was a Gothic melodrama.
We returned home around 10 or 11 p.m.; I don’t remember exactly. I do remember being dog-tired after a long workday. And I remember staying up all night pecking on my IMB Correcting Selectric III typewriter while working on that assignment. (I didn’t have a computer then.) I don’t remember how many unsatisfactory pages I ripped from the typewriter and tossed in the wastebasket. I finally completed the article at 6 a.m. Then, I showered, got dressed, and went to work. I couldn’t drink enough coffee that day to thwart a sleepless night. I was wired. And 5 o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.
LaVerne became a dear friend and mentor. My quasi-reporter job allowed me to meet and interview numerous people, from everyday citizens to an Emmy award winner with a national TV station and various local politicians, including one whom I most admired and still do, DC’s Congresswoman Eleanor Holmes Norton.
During my three and a half years with the Metro Chronicle, I went from freelancing and having op-ed pieces and some articles published in The Washington Post, The Washington Afro-American, and a few other newspapers to being a regular contributor to the Metro Chronicle.
LaVerne was a kind, gentle, beautiful black woman. Her laughter and smile were contagious. Her philosophy was, “Remember you can do whatever you want to do. Just help someone along the way.”
She eventually ceased publication of the paper and told me that she was going to pursue a degree in theology. In addition to her numerous skills, LaVerne was a brilliant writer. Before she left town, she gave me a signed copy of her book African American Women in Congress, which I will always treasure.
After reminiscing about my time with LaVerne, I watched the video. I listened as she received numerous accolades from those who arrived at the podium. A silver urn with bright red roses around it was on a pedestal before the stage.
Speaking through tears and sniffles, her sister-in-law spoke on behalf of the family, sharing LaVerne’s passions and travels to Europe, Africa, Coast Rica, Guana, and numerous other places. One minister, referencing LaVerne’s four master’s degrees and books she authored, including one she worked on in her last days, described the Howard University graduate as “An accomplished second career woman.” Indeed, she was.
Next Friday would have been my friend’s 76 birthday. She died during the pandemic, but I don’t know if COVID-19 was the cause of her death.
As the saying goes, “God works in mysterious ways.” I wonder why yesterday was the day I decided to contact her. And I believe God intended for me to discover that video. Although time and distance do not destroy true friendship, periodically reaching out is always a good idea because we don’t know when that friend will be gone forever.
This post is my belated tribute to publisher, author, humanitarian, radio talk show host, world traveler, and theologian Reverend LaVerne McCain Gill. (A photo and full biography are available on Amazon.)
I feel blessed to have known her.