Tag: gun violence

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Living

Pain Is An Inevitable Part Of Life.

I now understand why 50 Cent said, “Death has to be easy because life is hard; it’ll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred.” Pain is one of the most universal human emotions. We are aware of the sensation of pain, as well as its effects and potential outcomes. There is no specific game plan or blueprint for dealing with pain; everyone is different. Everyone has a role to play in this life, whether it is a tragedy or a celebration. I look at everything I’ve overcome and what’s going on now and wonder, “Why me, God?” But God has a reason for everything and its outcome, and he knows the people he sends storms to.

I realized God had given me the ability to be an empath, allowing others to find comfort in me and let down their defenses. I’ve recently been through the most trying time of my life. On September 23, 2022, my cousin was murdered, while my father is battling stage 4 prostate cancer. Some days I don’t feel anything, I’m just navigating and surviving, and other days I’m a jumbled mess who can’t get out of bed. Nobody truly understands how it feels to know that someone purposefully took a life and to see the person you care about more than life suffer in front of your eyes. I would shield JJ if I could. If I could bear the pain for my father, I would. That’s the only thing I can say about myself. I would take the pain for all of my loved ones because I know I’m strong and can weather storms. I am concerned about others because I know that not everybody is equipped to deal with the storms and heartaches that life can bring at times.

Daddy’s Little Girl

I remember the movie “My Sister’s Keeper” every time I think about everything my family and I are going through. Seeing someone you care about go through a battle has to be one of the most difficult things. One memorable aspect of that film is how the cancer of a daughter or sister affects everyone differently. As I previously stated, the domino effect of pain affects everyone associated with this person. The hopeless feeling that nothing you do will help this person you love who is in so much pain. Since I was a child, my father has been a superman to me, lifting me up whenever I needed it, bestowing half of his brilliant mind on me, and illuminating me with righteous morals and values. The thing about sickness is that it has no timetable; it can strike at any time. I’ve been watching my father fight stage 4 prostate cancer for the past two years. I’ve come to the conclusion that I simply want to support whatever he wants. People often will encourage someone to fight on, but my question to myself and others has been, are they fighting for themselves or for you? I will never understand the suffering or pain he is experiencing. I can just be there for him, love him, and do what I can to help.

JJ’s death taught me that every moment spent with someone is valuable; appreciate the time; and don’t take it for granted. One advantage of social media is the ability to keep up with people even if you don’t see them in person. I recall the last time I saw him . We hadn’t seen each other in a year or two. Jessica, my little cousin, was graduating from Orange High School, marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. I recall walking in, excited to see all of her hard work pay off and knowing the obstacles she overcame. I ran up the bleachers to see JJ as I was walking to where my family was sitting. His perfect smile was the first thing that drew my attention. You could see it from a mile away. We hugged and he said, “Dre, look at you all fly and shit.” I said, “Child, you know my body.” He sat there telling me about what he’d been up to; his business; his new outlook on life. I was so intrigued to hear about everything. We talked about how we needed to link up more and check up on each other. When the ceremony was finished, we went into the hallway to take pictures. “I gotta go,” he said, tapping my shoulders. “See you later.” “Nice seeing you,” I replied, “you too,” “be safe.” He was murdered on September 17, 2022, while dropping off a rental car from his business to a customer in Brooklyn. Once he noticed the ID was invalid, he proceeded to speak to the individual and was struck immediately and died. A life taken by a soulless human caused a chain reaction of pain for a number of people.

Control is one of the most important lessons I’ve learned from all of this suffering. I’ve learned to let go of the need for control. I’m not in charge of everything. I have no idea how tomorrow will feel or be, but we do know what we have now. God has undoubtedly kept my father alive, and I am grateful and blessed to have him. To avoid regrets, all we can do is learn to let go and let God, and to live in the moment. We must all die at the end. It’s a fate that none of us can avoid, so how you live each day is critical.

Categories
Living

The Era of Devastating Trauma

If you had a friend you knew you would never see again, what would you say? If you could do one last thing for someone you love, what would it be?

Say it, do it, don’t wait… Nothing lasts forever. 

June 9th, 2017 will always be a vivid day, my biggest nightmare. Throughout high school even in my freshman year of college, I was the girl who slept until 2 p.m.especially during the summer. On this particular day, for some “weird” reason, my phone kept ringing repeatedly. I started to get frustrated and decided to place my phone on Do not disturb . However, that did not stop the calls from coming. Once I realized it kept ringing, I felt compelled to wake up and answer. The way my phone would not stop, the ringing was alarming. Someone really needed me. After ignoring multiple calls, I Finally, I answered the phone call. The person calling was my best friend in an emotional and unbearable state. About five seconds into the phone call, I felt my face turning pale. The words that came through the phone hit me as if someone had stabbed me directly in the Chest.

“He’s dead.” “What? Who”?! I stared at the phone with a blank expression, trying to process what was going on, with everything being said. The first thing that ran through my mind was, “This has to be a joke”. I rummaged through social media and saw that other friends were posting “R.I.P.” “I will always miss you.” “This is not fair.” I closed my apps immediately and sat in silence.My MacBook was open, which allowed other calls to come in. The next one is from a man that I truly respect and love, crying his eyes out. Distress and grief were in his tone as he tried to come up with words to say. The sadness in his voice was confirmed. My nightmare was true; my brother was killed, and there was nothing I could do. Besides sulking it all in and remaining silent in my room. Left to my own thoughts, I played back the two conversations I just had. “My brother was killed”. He did not die of anything else besides a gun. Another individual decided to take his life in the most violent way possible. This seemed unbelievable to me, but for others, this was the norm. It did not hit me how much we normalized this behavior. And When I say we, I mean African Americans.

Let me share a distinct moment that occurred on Memorial Day. I attended several different cook outs in Newark, NJ. For those who don’t know Newark, the city is one of the most violent crime areas in the United States. As I walked out of a cookout, I overheard a conversation that bothered my spirit. There was a couple in front of my cousins and me who shared a sense of excitement and happiness. The woman said to her man, “Wow babe, there were no shootings today” and he replied, “I know, babe. We lit. “The whole hood is lit.” To see people actually happy that there were no shootings occurred was beyond me, almost like they were prepared for killings to occur. My cousin and I walked down the street towards my car while eight cop cars were on the street, siring away. In the background, I heard the man say as he took a joint out.

“Man, I love this ghetto heaven.” I was appalled at him lighting his joint while the police cars dashed by. “They don’t care because they’re too worried about the bodies.” Where Did he see this as heaven? All I saw was pain and suffering within our community, within our country! I spoke to my cousin, anxious about the whole ordeal. It frustrated me when he told me the hood would never change. This will always be a black individual’s  situation, so we make the best out of it. The worst part about that is how true it is that most African Americans are born into and placed into these situations. How could I even be mad at him for believing something that is present to him every day? Usually, when there are helicopters in the sky, it means a body is being transferred. The way one in the hood is familiar with the presence of death is shocking. The unfavorable part about this is that not only are we dealing with the inequality of society, but our violence stems from each other.

Not only is the world against us, but we are against each other as well. Black men carry guns in order to feel safe or to protect their loved ones.These weapons are brought anywhere and everywhere, which carries on the violence. Funeral after funeral, we bury our young loved ones as a result of beef, gang rivals, police brutality, and innocent crossfires. The struggle for blacks not only includes the injustice we receive but also the harm we cause each other. As I tell my cousins and friends, “The streets don’t love anyone; don’t be anywhere you aren’t cared for.” It was at the funeral of my brother that I realized something sadly. This nightmare of mine, the one I prayed to God would never happen and dreaded deeply, was a reality to my cousins and a majority of my own people. Death is always just around the corner for any person of color in America at any time. Withholding all this pain,How could one not be damaged or deterred in some way? When will our pain end? His death sparked me into understanding life is short; don’t waste memories or time. What you do and say matters in this life. Don’t take it for granted.

RIP ANGEL