Skip to main content

Goodbye, Good Friend

Singer and actor Christopher Simpson died on Saturday, June 29th in Dallas, Texas. The 36-year-old succumbed to injuries he sustained when he was hit by a car on June 19th. Although he appeared in several David E. Talbert plays and sang with John P. Kee, he's best known as the lead singer of Jesus is the Reason from Kirk Franklin & the Family's Christmas album.

My connection to Chris was more personal. I met him at the Gospel Music Workshop of America in 2000. Normally, I wouldn't have given him a second glance, but I had to when he told me that I, quote, "flowed in the ministry of sexiness." Prior to our meeting, I didn't even know there was such a ministry. He assured me that there was, and that I was a Bishop or at least an Elder in it.

We dated for a couple of months. Even though I was living in New York City and he was between Dallas and Philadelphia, we were close. I found him to be a charming and thoughtful man. Ultimately, though, we stopped seeing each other because we wanted different things at the time.

When I heard about Chris' accident, I never thought he'd die. I just thought he'd be banged up a bit. Obviously, God had other plans. I'd like to extend my sincere condolences to Chris' family. I know they'll miss him dearly. As for me, I'll do my best to flow in my ministry in Chris' honor.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

He's Gone...For Real

My uncle died. He actually ceased to live. I don't know how to handle this. Even though he was my mother's brother, he was so much more than that to me. He was the coolest cat on the block, He set the standard that every man had to meet. He was the one I compared every man in my life to. For all intents and purposes, he was my de facto dad. I am stunned. I feel like someone knocked the wind out of my body. I grew up watching him. If he sat up straight, I wanted to sit up straight. I once caught him standing up to pee. I thought I'd do that when I grew up, too. (You can just imagine that conversation). That's the thing...he never shied away from my craziness. When I discovered what a father was -- at the tender age of five -- I purposed in my heart to find one for myself. I asked every man I knew, including him, if they'd be my daddy. He said, "I can't be your dad. I'm your uncle." When I pressed, he gently explained that he already had a significan...

A Middle Aged Rant

I am single. I’ve never had a husband. I’ve never given birth to a child. I’ve never lived with a man over six months. I am 54. I’m not classically pretty. I’m overweight. I’m not very tall. My brother says I’m a unicorn. My friends are kind enough not to make me feel small. My mother mentions in passing that she wants me to find a husband. I try not to be sad about my state. I’ve lived a life that some would find enviable. I had my dream job, met and interviewed great people, made great friends, and traveled all over the world. I have a new career that I find oddly fulfilling. Men don’t always like that. Some of them are jealous because I’m not easily impressed. Some are jealous because I’ve done things they haven’t. Some are jealous because I’ve lived on both coasts. I don’t know what to do. I can’t change my life – not that I want to. I can’t change my past – not that I want to. I can’t change myself –not that I want to. I just want someone to see me, not the image I present. I want...

I Own My Tears

I own my tears. I used this as a hashtag on a Facebook post. I was talking about the movie, "The Fault in Our Stars." If you've seen it, you know what I mean, and I won't spoil it for you. Of course, you know me -- it's deeper than that. I need to say it out loud... I own my tears. New Boo meant the world to me. He really did. Our relationship meant the world to me. It really, really did. And now it's over and he's gone -- seemingly for good. That makes me cry more than I want to, and more than I have ever imagined I would. And while I hate it, I need to do this. I need to mourn this thing in its entirety because it has truly changed my life. I own my tears. I own the fact that I am hurt. I own the fact that I'm mourning a relationship that I wanted to work more than life itself. I wanted to be a part of a couple, and eventually a family. That may well happen for me one day. Today, though, it doesn't look likely. So yes, I cry. And you ...