For a moment, I sat in Constitution Hall, in the gushing river of Ms. Chaka Khan’s ageless voice, and I flowed with her and totally forgot all my problems. Then suddenly I thought of Toya and how much she would’ve loved seeing Chaka with me. And for just a second, my eyes misted over but then I had another thought, one much more beautiful and nourishing: Toya IS seeing Chaka, right here, through me. Everywhere I go, I take Toya with me and it’s better now that she’s “gone” because I don’t have to hear her say I can’t go Baby, I have a meeting that day or I’ve got to get some things straight around the house. I can just scoop her up and put her in the car with me and ride. To see Chaka, to Safeway for collards, to the bank, to see Selma, to sleep. So Toya: what’d you think of Chaka last night? Wasn’t it amazing when she sang Tell Me Something Good? What about those tight leather pants! Girl, that’s how we’ll look at 62. Where shall we go next?