The last sentences that I had heard Mrs. Johnson say to me, would come back to my remembrance.

On June 18, 1997, Mrs. Ima Jean Johnson died in her sleep. She went to be with the Lord with a smile on her face.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

June 18, 1997, 3:30 PM

I was going along. Life was fine. I was adjusting to my new life, surroundings, family, and friends. All was right in my world. I went to Day Camp as usual. The day went as it was supposed to go.

At 3:30 PM on June 18, 1997, my life changed forever.

I rode the elevator up to Kourtnee's office. I was watching the numbers for the floors change. When the elevator reached the seventh floor, I began to hear Mrs. Johnson voice singing, "Telephone in My Bosom." (That was her favorite song.) The voice was so clear and distinct that I looked around to see if Mrs. Johnson was in the elevator with me. She wasn't. The voice did not stop singing to me.

I walked off the elevator on the 7th floor. When I walked off the elevator, I knew something was going on. I was not sad, scared, or nervous, but I knew something was going on. I walked over to Paula's desk. She had a somber look on her face. She said, "LaDawnya, have a seat." She pushed the button on the intercom, "Kourtnee, LaDawnya is here." I still heard Mrs. Johnson voice singing, "Telephone in My Bosom." Moments later, Kourtnee's voice boomed over the intercom, "Paula, send LaDawnya in here." Paula looked at me and nodded. I got up and walked towards Kourtnee's office. As I walked by Paula, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I still heard Mrs. Johnson voice singing, "Telephone in My Bosom."

When I walked into Kourtnee's office, I no longer heard Mrs. Johnson's voice. Kourtnee was sitting on the couch. She motioned me to sit next to her. I did. She held my hand, "Sweetie, Arlene called." Kourtnee swallowed, "She said that she went into Mrs. Johnson's bedroom this morning and Mrs. Johnson was dead." I stared at Kourtnee. We were staring at each other, eyeball to eyeball. I mumbled, "Huh!?" She repeated what she had just said. The last sentence Mrs. Johnson had spoken to me days earlier began to ring in my ears...

"I won't always be in your life."

"I won't always be in your life."

"I won't always be in your life."

I fell over into Kourtnee's arms and began weeping.

June 18, 1997, 6:25 PM

Kourtnee shook my shoulder. I woke up and looked around. I was lying on the couch in Kourtnee's office. I had cried myself to sleep. Kourtnee wiped my face with a Kleenex. She smiled at me. I looked at her, "What time is it?" She responded, "It's 6:25. Arlene said that you could come over to Mrs. Johnson house tonight. Do you want to go?" I said, "Yes. I gotta go to the bathroom." She responded, "Ok," as I got up and walked out of the office.

When I reached the restroom, Gilda Chambers, the treasurer for Shimmers Inc., was in the restroom. She looked at me, "You're LaDawnya, Kourtnee's foster daughter, aren't you?" I looked at her and said, "Yes Ma'am." My nose, face, and eyes were red. She asked, "Are you ok?" I said, "A friend of mine died today." She smiled a compassionate smile at me, "Who died?" I told her. She told me about losing her father a few years earlier. She said some comforting words to me.

I still hadn't used the restroom yet. Kourtnee walked into the restroom. Gilda greeted Kourtnee then walked out of the restroom. Kourtnee asked me was I ok. I told her that I was okay and that Gilda was talking to me. I went inside the stall. I heard Mrs. Johnson singing, "Telephone in My Bosom" again. I knew that Mrs. Johnson was in Heaven rejoicing.

Interlude (All about Mrs. Johnson)

Mrs. Ima Jean Johnson was the director of Food services at the Madkinia orphanage in Dorinda, Maddocha. She disliked being called the director. She always said, "I'm just a cook, plain and simple; I'm a cook."

Mrs. Johnson was in her early sixties. She had a beige complexion. She had black eyes. She had long gray, white, and black hair. She carried her age well, but you could tell that she was a wise old woman. She had a smile that filled a room. She had a strong contralto voice. When she sung, you could feel the anointing. She was always singing and cooking. She loved the Lord. She devoted her life to the children at the orphanage. Many of the children and adults came to her for advice. She let her light shine. She walked with a swagger that let you know that she was someone special. She still drove and got around as if she was a younger woman. She always had a hug for whoever needed one. She would quickly dispense wisdom peppered with scriptures to give her wisdom the authority that it needed. She was indeed an angel that God allowed to live on earth among us.

I met Mrs. Johnson when I was five. When my parent's first died, I stayed with a foster mother for two months. I had some problems with my first foster mother, so, I went back to the orphanage. I wouldn't come to the dining room to eat, so Mrs. Johnson would bring a plate of food to my room. This went on for a while. By the time Mrs. Johnson was through with me, I was eating in the dining room and helping to clean up. I became Mrs. Johnson's helper.

I helped her in the kitchen. Although I was only 5 years old, I was a very fast learner. Mrs. Johnson told me all kinds of stories. I loved hearing Mrs. Johnson's stories. I was probably the only person who worked in the kitchen that liked hearing her stories repeatedly. As years passed, Mrs. Johnson became like a mother to me.

Mrs. Johnson affected my life in many ways. I didn't like the chapel services that were held at the orphanage. They were boring to me. My attention span was short and I would end up getting into trouble at the chapel sessions. One day, I asked Mrs. Johnson, "Do you go to church?" She nodded. I asked, "Do you all sing the songs that you sing here?" She nodded. I asked, "Can I go to church with you?" She stopped, "I'll have to see." The next Sunday, I was on my way to Harmon Street Church of God in Christ with Mrs. Johnson.

I met Mrs. Johnson's daughter, Arlene Johnson-Countaus at Harmon Street COGIC. She was the person who got me involved in many of the activities that I was involved in. The Sunday I met her, she was very impressed with me. I was well mannered. I had to be, Mrs. Johnson told me that I had to be good or else I couldn't come to church with her anymore. I made sure that I acted well.

I learned all of the songs that were sung during the praise service easily. I enjoyed hearing the songs. They were so loud and happy. The organ talked. The drums thundered the praises of God. The tambourines jingled. The handclaps were a joyful sound. The foot tapping was enchanting. It was amazing. I felt like I belonged at the church.

When the choir sung, I was mesmerized as I watched the choir director swinging her arms around, stomping her feet, and giving orders to the choir and musicians. I looked at Mrs. Johnson, "Can I do like that lady?" Mrs. Johnson smiled, "Yes baby. One day you can." I smiled and began mimicking every move that the choir director made. (I practiced my choir directing all the time. Anytime a song came on; I went to directing my imaginary choir.)

When the pastor did the altar call, people from all over the church went down for prayer. Mrs. Johnson had her eyes closed, so I turned to Arlene and asked, "What are they doing?" She whispered, "They are going down for prayer." I then asked, "Can I go down there, too?" Arlene asked, "What for?" I looked at Mrs. Johnson. I told Arlene, "I want to be like Mrs. Johnson." Mrs. Johnson opened her eyes, "Arlene, she wants to be saved." Arlene nodded. I was pushing my way by Arlene going towards the pastor. Arlene had to move quickly to catch up with me. She caught up with me and grabbed my hand. There were two people in front of me. When I reached the pastor, he bent down on one knee and asked me what I wanted from the Lord. I said, "I want Jesus." He stood up and said, "This baby wants to be saved." He bent back down and told me to repeat the sinner's prayer. He then prayed for me. When he had finished praying for me, he told me to praise the Lord. I began saying Thank you Jesus. I don't know what happened after that. Mrs. Johnson told me that while I was thanking God, I began dancing. She said that Arlene started dancing, too. She said that after that, the whole church went up. The whole church went to dancing and praising God. After service, I overheard one of the mother's of the church say, "That child is anointed. God is going to use her." I had no idea what that meant, but I sure felt special.

After that Sunday, I became Arlene's prized pupil. Anything that was going on in the church or in the community, Arlene had me involved in it. Arlene had me doing so much that Mrs. Johnson told Arlene to leave me alone. Mrs. Johnson wouldn't let me be involved in anything for two months. By the time I was 10 years old, my stack of awards were more than my room could hold. Arlene asked Mrs. Johnson could I keep some of my awards at her house. That began my award collection at Mrs. Johnson's house.

I met most of Mrs. Johnson's family. You would have thought that I was Arlene's daughter the way she acted about me. Arlene and her husband didn't have any children of their own. Mrs. Johnson often laughed at Arlene because she took out so much time with me. Whenever Arlene had me too busy, Mrs. Johnson would always stop me from doing things. Mrs. Johnson was a special person in my life.

June 18, 1997, 7:21 PM

Kourtnee, Paula, and I arrived at Mrs. Johnson's house at 7:21. The driveway was full of cars. People were going in and out of the house. It was so many people there. I walked into the house. When Henry, Jr. saw me, he grabbed me, "LaDawnya, Aunt Arlene said to get you as soon as you got here." I pulled me in the direction of Mrs. Johnson's room. I pulled Kourtnee in the same direction. Paula followed us.

When I walked into Mrs. Johnson's room, Arlene was sitting on the bed. Henry, Sr. was sitting next to her. He walked out of the room after he hugged me and spoke to Kourtnee and Paula. I walked over to Arlene. She grabbed me and hugged me. She was holding me too tight. I wiggled a little to get her to loosen up her grip. She did. I sat down on the bed. She went to talking fast. I couldn't understand most of what she said. Kourtnee walked over to Arlene and hugged her. Arlene went to sobbing. I went to sobbing once I saw Arlene crying. Kourtnee had Arlene in her arms. Paula grabbed me.

Arlene stopped crying once she saw that I was crying. She started talking again. This time I she was understandable. She told me that Mrs. Johnson wanted the youth choir to sing "Telephone in My Bosom" at the funeral and she wanted me to lead the song. I looked at her and said, "I can't do that. I don't want to sing!" Paula hugged me at my shoulders. Arlene said, "LaDawnya, it's what Mama wanted. Here, read this." She handed me an envelope. It had my name written on it in Mrs. Johnson's handwriting. I walked away from the three of them. I stared at the envelope. Kourtnee walked over to me and asked if I wanted her to read the note. I told her yes. She opened the note and read it to me.

Kourtnee handed me the note back. I blew a long breath. Since Mrs. Johnson wanted me to sing the song, I had to do it. I told Arlene, "Okay, I will sing it." Arlene told me to go get her best friend, Laurice Carver. I left the room and went to get Laurice.

When Laurice and I reached the room, I heard Arlene say, "Thank you, Kourtnee and Paula." Arlene had a check and a card in her hand. I found out later that the check from Kourtnee was for $1,000.00. Paula had given Arlene a card with $200.00 in it. We left Mrs. Johnson's house. This was the last time that I would ever step foot into Mrs. Johnson's house until the day of the funeral.

June 18, 1997, 10:28 PM

After we drove back to the Shimmers complex so that Paula could pick up her car, we all drove to Kourtnee's house. We reached Kourtnee's house at 10:28 PM. I sat in the car in the garage. I began thinking. I wasn't sad because Mrs. Johnson was dead. I knew that Mrs. Johnson was where she wanted to be. I was reminded that "for me to live is Christ, but for me to die is gain," so I knew that Mrs. Johnson was in Heaven, every Christian's ultimate goal. I was sad because I would never get to see Mrs. Johnson again. I would never again hear her sing. I knew that if she was still alive, I could have called her whenever I got ready to, but now, I couldn't call her unless I used the telephone in my bosom. When I thought of that, I started crying again. I don't think Kourtnee could take it because she ran in the house and Mrs. Mary Adams came into the garage to see about me.

Mrs. Adams helped me out of the car and then she hugged me and ushered me into the house. By we made it to the family room, I had stopped crying. I looked in the room, Mr. Adams, Mrs. Jackson, and Ms. Shields were sitting in there. I asked Mrs. Jackson where Kourtnee was. She told me that Kourtnee was in her room. I was about to go get Kourtnee, but Mrs. Adams led me into the family room. All four of them talked to me and cared for me. They all gave me some words of wisdom. The thing I remember most is what Ms. Shields said, "Precious, you will always miss her. Just know that she has deposited something in you that you will have forever."

Paula and Kourtnee finally walked into the family room. Kourtnee looked great. She sat down next to me, rested her head on my head, and gave me a hug. Mr. Adams, Mrs. Jackson, Ms. Shields, and Paula began talking about taking food and other stuff over to Mrs. Johnson's house. Kourtnee and I sat on the couch.

At 10:45 PM, the doorbell rang. Paula went to answer the door. A few seconds later, Mrs. Monica Austin and Colt walked in the room. Colt walked over to me and sat on the other side of me. He hugged me. He touched Kourtnee's hand and gave her this look. I wondered what the look was all about. I looked at Kourtnee. She smiled. At that moment, Kourtnee and Colt were friends with no past tormented history. They were both there for me. Ms. Austin walked over to me and hugged me. She went over to the group of good Samaritans that were discussing what they were going to do for Mrs. Johnson's family. Colt never said a word to me.

I sat on the couch with my head on Colt's shoulder and Kourtnee holding my hand. Kourtnee, Colt, and I looked like a happy family going through a tough time together.

That was the day Mrs. Johnson died!