‘A smile saved in a silent ponder’
Dazed mourners of Felicia Hudson, 54, shared their immediate pains and impressions at a candlelit vigil on Thursday. The next morning, sobered, her loved ones cherished her memory in a Celebration of Life.
Dennis Biddle and Emily Raby were among the organizers. Though emotionally stricken by the vigil, Biddle and Raby hustled to the BroadStage and decorated through the night. “Emily still blew up balloons, we still printed banners,” said Biddle. “We still baked about sixty cakes. We just wanted it to be as special as Felicia is.”
SMC president Dr. Kathryn Jeffery observed “different members of our team like little busy beavers, making sure everything was just right, the corner of the tablecloth tucked under just subtle, the flowers placed just right to make everything perfect for our friend.”
Dr. Lizzy Moore, academic administrator, began remembrances. “Dear Patric, Miss Kathy, family, close friends, colleagues, particularly our deeply dedicated and fiercely committed Maintenance and Operations team, please accept my deepest condolences for your loss, for our loss. There’s a permanent hole in my heart for this senseless and absolute maddening tragedy. A beacon of leadership, integrity, and kindness, Felicia was my trusted friend.”
“The true test of friendship and loyalty is knowing that I never had to ask for help. She knew exactly how to help and make an impact and did so in a stealth manner, with dignity and grace. Our friendship was based on trust and respect, and cemented with our commonality of being single parents of an only child. Every year, without fail, Felicia would beat me to the phone with a salutation on Mother’s Day.”
Recognizing dull spirits, Biddle encouraged participation. “Felicia was a talk-back-to-ya type person - good morning!” The audience greeted him back. “Felicia wanted church, so I’m going to be church. …We wanna tell her thank you for loving us and instilling in us to be strong. She taught us how to be strong. She looked out for our kids, they were her nieces and nephews. My daughter’s first car came from her auntie Felicia.”
“And if we take anything from this, it’s to love more, right?” At his side, Raby concurred. “Yes. Take care the way that she did.” She began to weep. “Because she cared about this college. She cared so much about this college.”
Raby’s shared experiences traversed a dynamic friendship. “She was a guidance for me. We went through similar things, similar stories. She was a confidant.”
A looping photo slideshow beamed continual evidence of her warmth - embracing friends, distributing food parcels on campus, partying in a tuxedo, childhood portraits from the 1970s. Raby noticed her babyfaced grace. “You say she was teacher’s pet, she was.” Everyone laughed. “She was. I told her and said, ‘hello, I want to be able to write my emails like you.’ She said, ‘girl, they take time.’”
Every speaker corroborated Hudson’s exceptional abilities alongside an exceptional humility.
“I don’t cook,” said Raby with a smile. “Everyone knows she cooks. You know she was recently mad about her four oxtails - four! She taught me step-by-step how to make greens. And yall, I left the greens in the water. When it came time to put it in a pot, she said, ‘Okay, did you drain the greens?’ I said, ‘no, they’re still in the water.’ She said, ‘slow girl.’”
Among the remembrances, colleagues Sherri Bradford and Dr. Karen Gunn performed libations. Bradford introduced “the libation ceremony (as) an African ritual of pouring liquid as an offering to the spirits and the souls of our ancestors who have transitioned on. …We call our ancestors into the room as a consistent reminder that in African culture, we know that human life is always connected to spiritual life.” As Gunn spilled water into a plant, representing elements of earth, the mourners of the audience contributed, interlocking names of the departed with cheers of “Àṣẹ.” The first name honored was none other than Felicia.
Before long Bradford admired the results. “We’ve done so much that the water is spilling out; the ancestors are pleased. Thank you, everyone.”
Jocelyn Winn, secretary-treasurer of the Pan African Alliance, read requested Bible scriptures Psalms 23 and John 14:1-6. In a soothing measure, Winn delivered, “thou preparest the table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
On the alliance’s behalf, vice president Kristin Ross delivered an official resolution: “be it resolved that it was the divine will of our heavenly Father that our cherished Felicia ceases from all her earthly labor and cares to come home with him. We’re sorrowing that he’s served us.”
Pastor George Cowart of the Divine Favor Missionary Baptist Church engaged his deep tremolo in a rendition of “Walk Around Heaven,” crooning “When I get to heaven, I’ll jump and shout, no one will be able to say, ‘Felicia, you’ve got to get out.’”
“Kathy said to me in the hospital, the night that she arrived, ‘I'm all cried out. I have no more tears right now, but I know they will come.’ And I realized that in the midst of responding to everything that needed to be addressed, I had not taken the time to cry,” said Jeffery. “But when I stood before my colleagues and saw the pain in their faces, recognizing the pain I also had in my face, the tears just spilled over. …And on behalf of our entire Santa Monica College, I share that we are saddened, and we are sickened.”
Probing the longevity of their relationship, Jeffery attributed to Hudson the first act of kindness she witnessed at the college. “The first person to actually hold a real conversation with me, she was among those. She talked to me, introduced herself, and told me with that sideways smile that I now know was her signature, ‘whatever you need, Dr. Jeffery, I will be here to support you.’
“And I knew instantly that was more than rhetoric. …Felicia meant it. And I knew instantly that she meant it. And her support never wavered. Never, never, never, never.”
Hudson arrived at SMC a custodian. Across 28 years of employment, she climbed the order into a supervisory and finally managerial position. Over the morning, every speaker commented on the supreme dedication and skill she committed to the job.
Jeffery recalled Felicia’s accomplishment assuaging her self-security. “I walked over to her one day on campus and said, ‘what’s up with you? Seems like you’re rising through the ranks.’ Then I told her how very proud of her I was. And that it made me feel so good to see her see herself in that way.”
Sensing deliverance, Jermaine Junius moved to end her speech. Jeffery observed and rebutted.
“I was waiting for Jermaine to try to tug at me and I absolutely swear I would whack him if he did.” The congregate laughed, long and powerful.
Rev. Cowart caught the moment to soothe the crowd with spirituality. “Life is filled with swift transitions,” said Rev. Cowart. “You don’t know how long you have. You don’t know. That’s why life is too fragile for me to remain frustrated with you over something that I can do nothing about.” The room reacted viscerally.
“I want to share with you briefly the passage that I so often reference in moments such as this. It is found in the Epistle of James. …And James gives us five things, if you will, that will help us to understand the fragility of life, and (are) what we need to do from this point on, no matter how frustrated you become. No matter how upset you get in life. Here’s the message. Five things.
“In this text, we see that number one, we have to live our own lives. Look at your neighbor and say "live your life.’” The audience obeyed. “Don’t try to live mine.
“Number two, love someone else in life besides yourself. Come on, look at somebody, tell them you love em.
“The third one is, listen, learn something new every day about life. Do you know life is a teacher? Live, love, learn.
“Congregation, after living, loving and learning, laugh. Would you look at your neighbor and say, laugh, you look better. We look better when we laugh - I didn’t say stop.” Laughs reverbed.
“Let me tell you why that’s so important. As you live your life, as you love someone else in life, as you learn something everyday in life, laugh. Laugh. Because this is the hardest part - you’ve got to let go. You’ve got to let go.
“Can I be very candid with you? Can I tell you right now that Felicia is at rest now? She’s not up there giving educational words. She’s not mentoring anybody. She’s resting now because of all the stuff that she had to deal with down here.
“Can I tell you one last thing I could say? What you are feeling right now? She’s not. You know why? Because in passing or where she is now, there is no pain. Death does not hurt. Living does. It’s life that brings pain. This is rest.”
One guest bated restless. She spent the service nervously scrolling her phone and shaking. With the words of the reverend, she paused. Inspired, she typed the five gifts into her cell.
“Live, love, learn, laugh, let go.” The weight of the passage bore sudden relief.
Dry wind and sunshine befitting, the procession emerged outdoors and faced the sky. Family members formed a casket spray with roses.
“I love you forever… be good, girl,” said a relative.
“I will always love you,” said Kathy as she lay hers.
A release of 54 doves prompted craning of necks. They traipsed the air in a spiral, resisting wind. Elsewhere, readying for sendoff, Kathy whispered into the hearse.
“Felicia’s legacy is photosynthesis,” said English professor Regis Peeples. “The hearts she touched will remain warm and gentle until the wind takes us to our next destination. Healing can be a smile saved in a silent ponder. Or a tear of wonder hydrating your soul at four in the morning. As long as we arise, our dreams will be today. So transcend and find a new home to heal within each other.”