As many of my readers know, my friend Norma Ray Johnson has been ill for some time. She lived much longer than her doctors predicted. But last week, she passed away peacefully, surrounded by her family.
Although I was expecting this, I find that I am dreading this week. There will be a wake, and the funeral here in Austin, then a graveside service in San Antonio. Of course, we will be celebrating her life. In fact, Norma planned the event down to the lunch menu, and I know she intended it to be happy. I’m just not quite there yet.
I’m thinking of the story of the little boy who found his room full of manure, and began digging to find the pony. As I’ve grown on my spiritual journey, I’ve tried to be more like that boy, and it’s taken some work. Joy is not always my natural response. But I know I have been blessed these past twenty-five years to have such a wonderful friend, and I also know at some point, each of us must leave and those who remain must find a way to cope. Finding joy in the sorrow is the challenge we all must face.
So today I am grateful for a couple of things. First, I’m grateful for Norma herself. She was brilliant and brave. She ran a public agency, and while most of the people who worked for her loved her, she had her detractors. There were several male executives who’d hoped for her job, who didn’t particularly like working for a woman, and perhaps especially for a woman of color. Norma charmed and cajoled them when she could, and when that didn’t work, she stood tall and held her ground. She fought cancer with every resource she had, with courage that left me in awe.
Norma did a lot of work in the community, but in a more personal way, she reached out to individuals, and especially to young people. We used to joke that her house was the “youth hostel north” and mine the “youth hostel south” in Austin, because we always had kids rotating in and out as they needed help.
She was warm and witty. She was also deeply spiritual, and she always uplifted me. She threw great informal parties where she cooked delectable soul food and served it with cold beer and funny stories. She was a wonderful “auntie” and godmother to my younger children, and we’ve celebrated many holidays with her family. Her passing is a loss not just to me, but to our whole family.
Second, I’m grateful for the way we met, and the role Norma played in my life. I had moved back to Austin, and was interviewing for jobs running social service agencies. In the interim, I took a temporary job working for the local transit authority. Norma was my new boss. Almost immediately, she started twisting my arm to make the arrangement permanent. I kept turning her down, but I ultimately accepted. It turned out to be an important decision in my career. As Assistant to the General Manager, I was in charge of a lot of community outreach. I ended up on the board of an affordable housing organization, and co-wrote a new housing ordinance for the city. From there I moved on to getting a grant and acquiring my own affordable housing project, and eventually to bigger projects for myself and clients.
When we met, Norma and I were both single parents. We had a plan that if neither of us remarried, we’d spend our golden years living together and sitting on the front porch in our rockers. As it happened, we were both fortunate enough to make great second marriages. We both loved The Blues Brothers movie, and we spent many hilarious hours watching the DVD, reciting all the dialogue and singing all the songs.
I wish now that I could look forward to hanging out with Norma in the years ahead. Still, as I write this, I can hear her saying, “Jill, there’s no point worrying about something we can’t change. Keep me in your heart, but go on out and make the most of your life.” My task now is to let go of what has been, and accept and find joy in what is. Don’t we all have to do that, over and over, in a thousand little ways?