As the world prepares for the holidays, my mind can’t comprehend the thought of a celebration due to the gun violence plaguing the city. It leaves families hopeless and just existing to survive in their new found life after the murder or injuries sustained from a gun.
At what point is it all right to shoot others, especially females and children, because of a point you feel that you have to prove to your friends? At what point is it all right to make phone calls to lure another outside to get even with them or to set them up? At what point is it all right to shut your mouths, and close your doors to allow these killers to roam free while they live their best lives and continue to ruin other families’ lives?
On a home visit this month, I met a family whose son was murdered in broad daylight in the Germantown section of the city. I was familiar with the family because our sons were good friends. As I entered the home, I reintroduced myself to the parents, and the mother ran and clamped onto my arms crying uncontrollably. As I guided her into a chair and allowed her to cry her heart out, I silently prayed for her and her family as I fought the tears back, then realized why am I trying to be strong.
You see, I have to be honest with myself. This young man spent a lot of time in my home. I just talked to him less than a week ago and now he is gone, gunned down and left on the pavement while others stood in judgement. Of course, no one saw anything, but everyone was outside on that sunny afternoon.
As we began to talk, I told her that their family would not have to take this walk alone, my family would be there with them and for them, which brought them a sense of comfort. You see, I could relate to their pain. I saw the distant look and the anger in his brother’s eyes as he sat in silence fighting his tears back. I know they were close and how much pain he is in.
As his father spoke with me, I told him not to blame himself and he looked at me and said, “I have been doing that. How did you know?”
I told him because I blamed myself for years and it wasn’t until I was quiet that I remembered Niam saying, “Mom, you did a great job raising us. I made a choice in my life to go against what you have taught us. I know right from wrong and now I’m working on correcting all my wrongs to make them right. Never think I wasn’t listening to you’ll because I was.”
I told the father that he had done his best with your children, and for whatever reason, we were called to take this walk in life. We have to go
through this journey, and will do so together.
As our conversation continued, we laughed and we cried because our sons were always together from the morning to the night each day. A lot of days I would drive to their house and the boys would be outside sitting on the porch just talking. I told the parents that we have memories of our children that no one can ever take from us.
I left the house and sat in my car visualizing myself yelling at Niam because he didn’t come home from his friend’s house to clean his room or take out the trash. Then I began laughing to myself because he would jump in the car and say, “Mom, why you drawling in front of my mans like that?” I would give him “the mother look” and he would say, “You right” and he would come home and do what he had to do to get back outside.
No one will ever know the pain that comes with this walk until you walk it. One can say they can relate, but until one walks a mile in the shoes of a parent who has lost a child, one will never know.
During this season, please try to remember the happy memories and reflect on the good. Don’t consume yourself with anger. Try to keep the same traditions alive even though you feel like you can’t go on. Most of all,
continue to be your child’s voice as you fight for justice.
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.
