Jamie, I miss you.
I don’t remember you completely
But I know the impact you had on this family.
Every once in
And feel you seeping back into my memory.
Sometimes I’m looking at your picture
And remember how it was to comb your hair.
A task you hated and begged me to cease.
I came to a point where I grew tired of hearing you cry over your hair.
Then I decided I wasn’t going to make you suffer
The same routines of vanity that compelled my parents,
trying to rip the curls out of my head.
And I decided never to comb your hair again
And it was always beautiful to me.
I loved your curls, Jamie.
They reminded me of youthful locks.
Sometimes I’d look at you with your disheveled hair
And be able to see
There were instances when your parents would grow frustrated with me,
for letting you out in public with your wild hairdo.
But you always looked like a model to me.
And I always proud to display you
And let onlookers conclude that you belonged to me.
Every now and then one of them would comment
On what an adorable little girl I had.
I’d just laugh in their faces
Because I knew that underneath all those curls
Was a 3-foot high
Who would readily prove his boyish masculinity
Granted you place a tree in front of him.
Jamie, I miss you.
I miss the unique way you’d mispronounce certain words
Like “
And how we’d all laugh at you, but you can be assured
That after being graced by your presence
I’m only having “
Jamie, I miss you.
And yet I know you are here with me.
I know because I’m alive right now.
When all the cards were stacked against me and I should have died.
Somehow, someway I pulled through.
I know now Jamie, that you were the how and you were the way.
You are one of the few angels whose acquaintance I’ve made.
I’m sure that it was your celestial presence that pulled me through.
And I thank you
And I’ll thank you every day by embracing and appreciating life,
Even when it seems difficult,
Because you always did.
June 15, 2002
©2002 Angela Bratton-Nelson, Auntie