The Power of My Nana

Willie Mae Lamons

May 30, 1938--July 4, 2020

Yet she still speaks…

I knew she was dying. I think we all knew. 

When someone can walk perfectly fine, then with a cane, and eventually a walker--these are clear signs that their human abilities are declining, and unfortunately, this world has made it very difficult for anyone with these experiences to live comfortably. Although Nana’s body weakened, anyone can tell you the love grew deeper in every stage. Like my niece Kiamoni said, no one actually thought Nana would die.

I often think about her life. I’m in awe of how powerful she was/is. She could center you, cuss, love, and comfort you all at once. 

The prayers she uttered over and for me still loom in the air as well as her very last words.

On January 2, 2021 I traveled to Pavo, Georgia to retrieve answers I could not unlock. Pavo is the place where my Nana and her family worked the land. A place where my mother was born, and my Nana’s sister died. A place where Black people seemed to understand the sense of family.

Driving to Pavo my chest was heavy. I could literally feel my ancestors. I am sure if I closed my eyes I could hear them. There was something dreary yet powerful about the drive. The trees that lined the many fields appeared strong, but missing something. They were like unwritten books, holding pain, love, and untold stories.

I had the opportunity to see my Nana’s brother, Uncle Charles, his wife, Aunt Louis, their daughter and grandchildren. We looked at pictures, talked about the Georgia Senate runoff race, laughed, and cried. They knew Nana in ways I did not, yet also got the opportunity to feel her love. 

As I prepared to leave I could tell they were worried as driving down dark roads in Georgia is not safe. I could have waited until the morning to leave their home and travel 15 miles to Pavo, but I had to go. My uncle Roscoe was able to give me the exact intersection where they lived growing up. and my uncle Charles was able to give me a  description. 

I knew exactly when I reached the location...I could feel it.

Due to the rain I just drove around and talked to my nana, but when I got to the stop sign, I realized I had to touch the dirt. I stood in the middle of the street as it rained. I grabbed the dirt of the land my ancestors worked, lived, died, struggled, danced,  and loved.  I grabbed the dirt because I needed to. That’s the power my Nana has. She has the power to lead people back so they know where to go. 

Daniel Black  reminded me the trees are not going through a pandemic. We are.  We can learn so much from my Nana, who planted her feet firmly in the dirt like a tree. Stick with me so we can learn how we can be free. 

Nana is telling me now….