Baker Library, empty and dark, looks eerie under the milky moonlight. I can’t go home tomorrow without saying goodbye, for now, to Matthew. I stand on the Green in a kind of nostalgic shock. How did the year pass so fast? Flashes of final moments rain down over me.

Keli and I walk Gabby and Earnell to the bus, the Hanover Coach. They leave a day before us. We load all their luggage in the storage compartment and then stand in a circle trying to joke around.

“Ooo, let’s sing ‘Makidada’ from The Color Purple!” Earnell blurts out. He is referring to the hand clapping and song Celie and Nettie sing to each other during the movie to strengthen their bond. It’s especially important when they are forced to part since it’s the last thing they say to each other.

“You are insane,” Keli responds, “but let’s do it.”

We all start clapping hands and singing the song. “Me and you us never part, Makidada.” It probably looks ridiculous from the outside, but it lightens the heaviness of the moment.

When it’s finally time and the bus driver yells “All aboard!” we do a group huddle trying to soak in the essence of the spirits who have helped us survive this place. Gabby rushes onboard, overwhelmed by the moment. Of course we all understand her haste. Earnell walks slowly toward the stairs before turning around and saying, “Thanks for coming back.” The doors close and as the bus drives off, Earnell flings himself against his window while launching into a final rendition of “Makidada” while clapping at the air. I have never witnessed a more “Earnell” moment, equal parts hilarious and thoughtful.

Jennifer prays for me in our final session. She asks permission first. “Are you comfortable with me saying a few blessings on your behalf?”

“I never turn down prayers,” I say gleefully. “Especially not after hearing so many in the above plane. There was so much power up there.”

She smiles her warm, white-lady smile one more time and begins: “Beloved, I pray that in all respect you may prosper. May she be in good health. May she know peace. May she find healing. May she summon the courage to face it. Ashe.” I feel the love of her Lord coursing through my veins. The Holy Spirit ignites me. I stand and launch into a series of silly dances like the running man. I end by raising the roof, intentionally off beat, which is challenging for me, as an homage to Manda Panda.

“Oh, well, that was an interesting little display,” she says, laughing uncomfortably, not sure how else to respond. “You seem so free and unburdened. A beautiful sight.”