I was planning on being very active in the blogosphere last week since I was off from work the entire time, both posting and commenting. Then the unthinkable happened. Mama Dell passed away.
I won't go into details other than to say that even though she had a number of health issues, she went into the hospital fully expecting to come home in better shape. Therefore, the turn of events that led to her demise was very unexpected and trying on my entire family.
I wanted to post something here because she actively started me on the path to becoming a cinephile, which of course, led me to this blogging thing. She introduced me to film at a very young age, and very rarely censored what I watched. The first trip to the theater I remember is going to see a Bruce Lee triple feature when I was five or six years old. All three movies were R-rated, violent (obviously), and contained nudity. She didn't show me a lot of R-rated movies back then, but she knew I loved Bruce Lee, so she was okay with it.
By the time I reached twelve, the restraints were really off, as I watched pretty much what I damn well pleased. Friday the 13th, Porky's, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Eddie Murphy: Delirious, whatever struck my fancy. She even took the whole gang of us to see A Nightmare on Elm Street. I was thirteen. My youngest brother was four. I know that makes some of you cringe, but that's how we rolled.
She was very aware of this blog. She even visited a time or two in the early days. From time to time, she would ask how it was going. She wasn't just being nice, she genuinely wanted to know, and came to value my movie opinion above most others. She was also proud when I told her that she had been mentioned in a number of posts and had been dubbed Mama Dell. The smile that graced her face when she received this piece of info was filled with warmth and satisfaction.
I was with her the night before she went into the hospital. One of the last conversations we had was about movies. We revisited our differing opinions on Green Book. She lovingly ate it up. I spat it out with disgust. We spoke about how much we both love Denzel Washington. She laughed as I admitted that to this day, when I hear the name Malcolm X, I first see his face and have to remind myself that he's not the real Malcolm. I laughed when she praised Idris Elba to the heavens and swore it was all about his talent. We had a mild disagreement when discussing Angela Bassett. I think she can do no wrong, Mama Dell found her limited. We both spoke glowingly of If Beale Street Could Talk. It was a fun exchange.
Unfortunately, we won't get to have those discussions again. However, she always taught me not to mope around being depressed whenever she left me. She wanted me to celebrate her the way one would throw a birthday party, and move on with my life. So, in the midst of making final arrangements for her - comforting some people, making others upset, trying to reconcile those on either side, and coping with my own pain - I did what I think she would have wanted me to do. I found a few hours for myself, and went to the movies.