Be a Lizard

2023 was a year of loss for me. One death would have been plenty. But there were several. A neighbor. A childhood friend. A fellow artist. A young man I had never met. The impact of their lives makes their deaths unimaginable.

How do we process grief? Well, I’m going to take the advice of a fictional character in my play. Lola (grandmother) tells her daughter not to be afraid of lizards. “Be a lizard,” she says. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m going to interpret it as advice to sit in the sunshine. So to honor the people I—we—have lost, I’m going to give them a spotlight. Let them sit on a rock and soak up the sun’s warmth.

Kaylen. Beloved son, cousin, nephew. He loved playing basketball. At every birthday, he was celebrated and surrounded by people who loved him.

Her real name was Suzanne, but to me she was Tootsie. The best at kickball. The best at softball. The best at teamball. When another girl said she was going to beat me up, Tootsie jumped in and said she’d have to fight her first. Instinctive loyalty. Purple was her favorite color.

My sweet friend Jack. Always stylish. A bowtie. Suspenders. A hat. At breakfast in North Park he started to cry because he was so moved by what he thought was our purpose in life: To connect with other people. Small, everyday interactions could be so meaningful. Like the staff at Starbucks who gave him a card one day when he stopped by during his morning walk routine after he had been diagnosed with cancer. My favorite photo of him is him running with his eyes closed, being guided by another dancer. What bravery. What adventure.

And Pamela, who gifted our neighborhood with sweet peas. Holidays were meant to be celebrated. Houses decorated. Hospitality. Invitations. Baked goods. Enough of her sweet peas have volunteered in my yard so I have my own now. I no longer have to steal them from her, which she gladly encouraged.

Stones are for the dead. But hey, I’m a rock collector. I inherited that trait from my mother. Rocks used to call to her. “Pick me up, Genesa,” they’d say.

Take a moment. May the warmth of the sun find you. Be a lizard.