Page 1: Dear Josie, Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being honest when I’m stubborn and being gentle when I’m raw. Thank you for being the first person to bring me good news. And, I truly mean this, thank you for being the first person to come to me with bad news. Nana loved you. I know she loved me but she had to love me. She had to make space for me in her home when Mama died, but she didn’t have to make space for you too. She wanted to. She loved doing it. I remember one day, when I was about 14. I was reading a book from the library and she asked why I was underlining things in pencil, and ruining the library’s copy. I told her that the pencil could be erased, which is why I chose it, but when I returned it to the library, I was going to tell you about it. And you would probably pick it up the next day, so I wanted to highlight the best parts for you. She took a long pause and let me get back to reading. And then she said, “Ruthy honey, if one day you decide to save up all your change, and save up all of little Miss Josie’s change, and you two want to get a house together, and just be two free black women, well I think that would be just alright.” I didn’t understand why she would say something like that due to some silly underlines. But now I think I do. Josie, Gerald is dead. That’s why I wasn’t answering the phone. That’s why I couldn’t go to the funeral. I had another one to plan. All that time with us poking fun at his paranoia or for being too rigid. I’d give up most things to hear one of his theories or his rules right now.