Time To Go
~ Louise Hills
 
 
My good friend Crazy Horse died after leaving

my house.  He got onto the bus and had a

masslve heart attack, while sitting next to a

woman. Because Washington D.C. has such

a large homeless population, the woman figured

he was asleep when he fell over on her shoulder.  
 
Three am, June 8, 2010, Crazy Horse 's wife called me, and said, "Gerald Woody has died. I identified his body at the morgue." I slumped over.
 
I began to understand the previous night.
 
It took me nearly five hours to get from Virginia to the District of Columbia.  I went from one train to another. I rode to Maryland, and Virginia.  I got on buses going from DC to MD.
 
My former husband (Cherokee /Mattaponi), saw Crazy Horse standing in his favorite place in our hallway.  He didn't say anything, he just smiled, then he was gone.
 
 
The Phone Call
 
Three weeks after Crazy Horse's funeral (Nez Perce/Seminole/Cherokee) his wife Patricia (Blackfeet)  told me, Crazy Horse was scaring everyone in his family. He was running up and down the stairs without pants, slamming doors.  "Can you make him stop & go away?" I told her "of course I can, but is that really want you want?"
 
I knew that once I took my medicine, he would leave and not come back. 
 
I knew he was furious, he told his family he did not want to be buried, he wanted to be cremated.  His family did not honor his wishes, and that's why he was still there.
I took my bath, scrubbed with rock salt, and smudged myself.  I prayed before I went to the house.
 
Once I got there, I made heavy smoke with my big boys (sweet grass braids) and a little sage. Everyone in the house had to take part in opening the doors and windows so he would leave. The last person was his wife, she hesitated for a while.
 
Crazy Horse left without returning.
 
Patricia calls me to complain that she no longer sees him.
 
Insanity.