When your child cries for their sibling, it hurts more than one would know. I thought my children were coping well after my son and their brother, Niam Johnson-Tate, died from gun violence on July 5, 2017. Little did I know, they are hurting just like me or even more.
Sometimes we ignore the red flags our other children are showing, such as self-isolation, not expressing themselves, self-perfection, not seeking assistance, ensuring everyone else is alright but not caring for themselves, and over-indulging. When we see these signs, please allow your child to express themself. Check on them daily, suggest some things to them, such as seeking therapy or taking a day to themselves, and love on them.
As parents we can overwhelm our other children and not even know it. We set the tone for them by our presentation and attitude. As I continue to be my son’s voice, I include my other children in this fight as much as they can handle. This month, I am giving my daughter Eboni N. Drake this platform to express herself regarding her brother.
All of these memorize fill my head at once, to the point that it overwhelms me. I need this nightmare to be over. I just need my brother right now. It was always my brother and I everywhere we went. We always had a lot of love to give, so it was nothing for us to share our love with others.
Our early life it was always my brother and I playing around. I had my dolls and my brother had his cars. When he got mad with me he would break the heads off my dolls to get me to pay attention to him. I would yell and scream at him because my dolls were my world. Although he made me mad he would do something funny to make me laugh so hard that I forgot I was mad with him.
We shared many adventures together, from roller skating and playing hide go seek as children to talking about girl/boy trouble, parties, and raising our children as we moved into adulthood. I will never forget how my brother made my sister and I iron his clothes and complete his chores, and he never had to study for tests because of how intelligent he was. He would see me struggling with some schoolwork and come right up and look at it and tell me the answer, then teach me a simpler way to do it.
Another memory. I was learning how to read, and I was reading a book called the Magical Fish to my brother and my mom. My brother got upset that I could read and he couldn’t, so I sat beside him and began teaching him how to read. He was so happy, and that’s when I realized we would have a bond that would be unbreakable. I miss my brother so much; I can’t take this. I need to talk with my brother. Life is so hard without him. Why did they take him from me? We did everything together. We talked about everything and I need him to get me through this thing called life without him.
It’s funny — I see a lot of families grow distant once they get older, but as adults, our bond got even stronger. As my brother walked into his adulthood, he made some mistakes, but he knew I was always walking with him. He knew it affected me a lot when he went to jail, but with his silly ways he persuaded me to visit him. I would sit in the waiting area excited to see my baby brother, when I saw him I had to hide my joy with fear of being escorted out by the guards. I was on one side and he was on the other side until he was searched to come out and visit. I remember asking him why they are treating you like this. He looked at me and said he has to get searched and approved for visits. I just wanted that chapter of his life to be over with and he would be back home with us.
That day finally happened and we were reunited once again, Kim’s bay-bay kids! I remember we talked the whole night away and fell asleep, waking up the next day in shock that we had my baby brother back once again. There would be times our mistakes would distance us for a moment, but my brother would ensure he would place his pride to the side and make us remain solid once again.
He believed in family unity and always was the first to make up with me even when I was being stubborn. He would just hug me, kiss me on my forehead and say, “Ugly, you know I love you,” then we would just pick up where we left off as if nothing happened. I had to realize my baby brother grew up overnight and turned into a man right before my eyes. He no longer needed my advice, but I needed his.
Today I struggle with not hearing his voice or seeing his face. I miss him kissing my forehead, calling me ugly, the phone calls. I miss everything about my brother and it hurts, but I know I have to hold on. I am my brother’s keeper and will continue to assist in the upbringing of his son and ensuring the family continues to stay together through it all.
Right now I have to learn how to live without him, which is one of the hardest things ever.
Kimberly Kamara is the author of “Where’s My Daddy,” a children’s book aimed at kids who’ve lost a parent to murder. The book was inspired by her family’s continuing journey of grief after her son, Niam Johnson-Tate, lost his life to gun violence on July 5, 2017. Kimberly has two daughters and lives in Germantown with her husband.
