Tapping the Water
Angelia Vernon Menchan
what she said. It was that my mind couldn’t fathom a
world without him.
Willie was my friend Nicole’s husband, and I’ve
known them for more years than I’d ever admit in
writing.
He was the quintessential baby brother though
technically he was older. He drove you crazy while
making you laugh. He was occasionally irritating and
stubborn as hell. He also had a very distinct point
of view and the intelligence to back it up. I can still
imagine his eyes bright, lips smiling as he told a story.
Or the emphatic way he gestured when driving home
a point. But, if there was one thing that Willie was all
the time, he was present.
How can a man that was always there for everyone
be gone?
See, Willie stood at the center of a pool of people,
constantly tapping the water, making soft waves that
gently washed over everyone. I didn’t talk to him every
day or even every week. However, if I went too long
without a conversation or a sighting, as sure as the sun
rose, I would receive a text from him inquiring about
Father’s Day was coming. I also knew the call for
what was going on in my life.
articles would occur. I knew the person I wanted to
Tapping the water.
base my article on, and I felt totally inadequate.
Now, Willie didn’t just do that for me. He did it
Now those who know me well, know that I feel
inadequate about my height, my singing ability, but for everyone. His wife. His children. His mother.
not my writing. Sometimes words are inadequate in His brother. His family. His in-laws. His friends. His
describing a life. They are too one dimensional to fully former classmates. His co-workers. The students he
breathe life into all the facets of one’s being. And I, impacted through the nonprofits for which he worked.
who love words, struggle with each one I’m placing The students he coached. The students he mentored.
on this page.
Tapping the water.
The truth is a few months ago, I couldn’t fathom
As news of his passing spread like a California
writing this article until I received a call on April 18, wildfire after a ten-year drought, calls poured in.
2018.
Everyone wanted to extend condolences. Zombie-like
My girlfriend called me at work to tell me that Willie people rang the bell to enter the home, not knowing
died. I asked, “Willie who?” We only knew one— what to say or do besides show up and be present like
Willie did so many times for each and every one of
Willie C. Bobbitt, Jr.
them. And bring chicken. Lots and lots of chicken.
It wasn’t that I didn’t hear her. Or didn’t understand
10 | NKLC Magazine