If I close my eyes I can still hear her voice. Sometimes the conversations would begin with a hmmmph, followed by a statement that left no room for interpretation—for she was never anything but crystal clear and to the point. Other times, the hmmmph was preceeded by Child, then an equally observant comment.
We had next to nothing in common other than a shared love for a woman we both worked for, in different capacities, yet, somehow we became friends. I can’t think of her without feeling a twinge of guilt for the privileges that the color of my skin gave me over her, and our conversations were quite possibly the first real ones I’d ever had about race.
Her passing closed a chapter—a period of time in my life that forever changed me. And though she’s gone, she will live forever in my heart.
it's (almost always) about the water... 
So sorry to read this Sheryl. I know you went through a really tough time together and we’re each others rock towards the end.
A special soul always lives on in you. It’s a wonderful thing.
You and mom had a special friendship.
I always admired that no matter how long yall went without talking, Yall still managed to pick up just like old times whenever yall did reconnect..
Thank you Sheryl
This put a smile on my ❤
Thank you, I find that to be true of those you’ve had deep connections to…time apart is irrelevant. She was a very special woman.
💛🌻🦋