My cousin was a Jehovah's Witness.

She used to drop off "The Watchtower" here and there, year after year while I was growing up.

She used to call me "baby" even after I was a full grown man, because she was much older than I am, and remembered me being born and to her, I was always "the baby."

She was a beautiful woman, filled with kindness and grace, who never asked for anything from anyone, but never stopped trying to help other people. She was with me when my mother died, and I swear she kept me from going crazy, or getting arrested, or worse.

I loved her very much, my cousin.

She got cancer some years back, and died, and to be perfectly honest, if she could hand me a copy of the Watchtower once more, my heart would burst with love.

I cannot say much about her faith, except that she lived it, unlike a lot of other people I know who want to tell me about their version of God, she lived the parts of Christianity that are about service, and help, tolerance and forgiveness.

I may not be a Christian, but I miss her very much.

Elevate Me Mama.

Homage to Neil Welliver, 2014