Both of my parents died in December 2023. Our dog Maxwell died last Spring. Our friend Chris Jones died in April of this year. And Odell Irby died on June 4, my dad’s birthday. Beyond these personal losses are those happening around the globe, which also pierce my heart. 

Being alive means being a student of grief. 

For many reasons, I haven’t shared publicly about my parents. For one, they were both introverts, and my intuition says they appreciate the privacy as they transition into ancestors. 

Odell Irby, on the other hand, was an absolute extrovert, and specifically asked me to share the copious photos and stories I collected of him over the years. 

In addition to helping with the photo slideshow for his funeral, I had written something which I did not get the chance to read out loud that day. So I decided to briefly pause my online hiatus to publish it here.

Grief is love, and I want to share it with you. 

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Ode to Odell

I had the distinct delight of being Odell Irby’s friend and neighbor for over a quarter of a century. Like others who loved him, Odell enriched my life, and infuriated me, in countless ways. I am going to miss him so much. 

As you all know, Odell was a charismatic character who never met a stranger. I liked to call him the Mayor of Montford, as he engaged everyone who walked by his corner of Flint and Elizabeth. He knew his neighbor’s names, and the names of their kids and their dogs, and kept track of what was going on in their lives. This kindness and attention was an admirable quality. 

The banter he would initiate with people walking by usually led to a smile or a conversation. Wherever we were, Odell would say outlandish things to others. I was continually amazed by his ability to say things that I thought might anger someone, only to watch them end up being endeared to him. His charm was undeniable.

Odell gifted me with stories and insights from his experiences. As a local history buff, I treasure his descriptions of what this city was like in previous decades, particularly Black Asheville. He painted a picture of the past which has helped inspire my commitment to work for repair in our community. 

We had many conversations about the heartbreak caused by the unjust systems, gentrification, and unfortunate situations that shaped his life, though we never lingered there, as he would deftly pivot to more positive topics. 

Odell had such an impressive capacity for joy. He was quick to laugh and dance and sing. He truly appreciated even the smallest pleasures. He savored food and music. He had great style, and was always the life of the party. I am grateful for all of the fun we had together. I remember one time we were recounting a particularly funny moment and, while laughing enthusiastically, he said, “That’s the great thing about having a good time, you can relive it whenever you want.” 

I’ll be reliving our good times together for the rest of my life. 

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What It Takes to Heal

Prentis Hemphill has a new book out, What it Takes to Heal: How Transforming Ourselves Can Change the World, and it is medicinal. 

You can hear the amazing adrienne maree brown interview Prentis about the book on the first episode of their new podcast, Becoming the People (which builds on their incredible podcast Finding our Way).

May we stay dedicated to transformation.

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Love y’all, more from me in the future if it’s meant to be!