A D.C. AIDS story: ‘I couldn’t have survived without you guys’
‘Red Reminds Me’Seven videos reflecting the spectrum of living with HIVSunday, Dec. 1, 4-9 p.m.David Bethuel Jamieson Studio House at Walbridge3229 Walbridge Place, N.W.Washington, D.C.Reserve free admission on Eventbrite In the tradition of my family, funerals are not somber affairs cloaked in black garb.
We call them “celebrations of life” where through our tears we laugh and reminisce about the dead. At the end, we all gather either in the basement of a church or a matriarch’s house where over a spread of rich, decadent food, we rejoice in the fact that our dead relative shed the chains of their flesh and transcended to the next phase.
With bellies full, the kids run outside and play with each other and the adults would drink and trade stories. The repast is my fondest memories of childhood.
It was a time when I could see family members separated by distance and eat collard greens simmered in smoked turkey and mac and cheese so cheesy that it solidified into a brick when cold.
