There is an actual street called Ursula Lane in Dallas. My biggest fear was Ursula passing before me. We talked about it. I couldn’t imagine life without her. She was my first love, best friend, and mother of my children. She was the initiator. She got things done. I can still hear her say, “It’s about business, man!” She even initiated our relationship! What would life be without her? What would I do? It was scary. I was used to traveling this road. When things got bumpy, she was my AAA, my Rescue 911; Ursula Ln. was the only road I knew.
During that morning of October 16, 2023, as I lay on the sofa in her ICU room, that fear became reality. As the doctor confirmed her passing, suddenly, Ursula Ln. was gone, washed away. My immediate response was “I don’t know what to do.” In that moment, I felt more like a little boy losing his mom than a husband who just lost his wife. I felt I had no foundation to stand on. Ursula Ln. was the road I had known for 28 years, and in that moment, it was gone. Her death was not a video game; there was no restart button to push, no fix-it tool to purchase, not even a return-to-sender label to ship it back. I couldn’t pull out a cape and say, “This is a job for Superman.” This was death front and center—the real deal. Ursula had always been there; now, for the first time, she wasn’t.
Labor with the Creator 