He was purposeful and purpose-filled. I’ve never seen someone so strong push through so much pain in order to fulfill his purpose on this earth. There were days I’d ask him how he was doing and he’d simple reply, “Pushing through, brother.
” I watched as he gritted his teeth and took deep breaths as he battled the immeasurable pain of tumors and the debilitating effect of chemo in order sit through a scriptwriting session or to arrive on set and act a scene or to be the consummate movie star as we sat through studio pitch meetings. I was in absolute awe of him in these moments. He never let on that he was in any pain or discomfort. He’d just push through. With silent dignity and resolve to fulfill his purpose. It was his greatest performance. He knew what God put him on this earth to do and he didn’t want people knowing or focusing on his battles and not his work. It was his process. His struggle. He was determined to push through.
In our last conversation about work he said to me, “Tell ‘em what we did. Tell them all the work that was done and what I had to go through to tell those stories.” I said I would, but holding out hope I also added, “But I want us to do it together bruh, like we’d set out to do all those years ago. We’ve got so many un-shot screenplays, too many unproduced movies. All these dope ideas of stories to tell about Black folks that we want the world to see.” Selfishly I wanted to do it together. Silently I was unsure how I’d do it alone. As we talked more, he told me, “Don’t be scared.” To think, even amid all that he was going through in that moment he wanted to make sure that I was okay. He looked deeply at me, like only Bose could do, and he transferred a wealth of silent strength to me even as he grew weaker. That’s who he was. I almost broke down in that moment, but I didn’t. If he was going to face this moment with quiet resolve and dignity and peace, then I couldn’t be scared.
In that last conversation he also said to me, “…You better not stop, hear me?’ And I nodded and simply replied, “Okay.” I’m still not sure I know how to do that, but I’m listening to my brother and I’m going to push through. His voice continues to ring out in my head. In my heart. And so I have no choice, but to push through. I’m going to keep going because I received direct orders from the King. I look forward to sitting and writing at 4 a.m. and hitting a bump and then stretching out on the floor and closing my eyes and listening for him. I look forward to hearing my brother-ancestor whisper in my ear. Telling me what I need to hear in order to keep pushing.
The last thing I said to him as I touched his head and left his presence is “You my brother, are a GIANT.” And he is indeed. He’s the people’s King, but before all that he was a dutiful son, a brother, an uncle and a husband. And he was my friend. The lifelong kind. From infinity to infinity. Iron sharpens iron.
Producer Logan Coles Recalls Last Conversations with Chadwick Boseman - Variety