Mamas Eyes

I didn't see her when I heard the news. It was a morning familiar to yesterday's pain. I... I parked my car and saw my teacher coming in my direction. I noticed his head bowed and a heavy sway to his walk. I exited my car and greeted him. He softly responded with "Did you hear the news"... "What news?" I asked. My body tensed up as I knew the message would not be one of comfort. His eyes swelled and he said, "D---- was killed last night. They shot him in the leg, ran after him, and then finished him off with shots to the back of his head". "What?", I gasped. My mind fled that moment... It went to my first encounter with "D"... Him entering my office and introducing himself. He was a scrawny lil guy... but tall. Cute. Braces. But what stood out for me was the tattoo on his forearm. It was the name of a male? I curiously asked how did he get a tattoo at such a young age. His response was that his mother let him get it, because it was the name of his younger brother who had died. Ohhhhhh, okay. I didn't quite understand the correlation, since he was only 14 years old. But I soon learned that tattoos represented something much more than a work of art. The symbolization emobied in getting tatted was mind blowin. Soon after I exhaled and found myself comforting the teacher that shared this news with me. It left me for a while. I, I was sad... real sad... not understanding why or how... remembering my last encounter with him and his mother. We had to visit his home (me and the Police Officer), because he was possibly involved in a robbery... It was more of a warning than anything, but I saw the path he was now traveling down and somewhere in my heart.... I knew that this path would end one day. What I wasn't prepared for... was it ending on a morning that I was entering my workplace. A community of young folk who began to grieve. It's surreal to have to exist in such a community. It truly amazes me how calloused you become in order to assist others through their grieving process. The funny thing is... is that this happened about a year ago... and... and... and I saw his mom the other night. All of a sudden I was stuck. My eyes fixated on her. I watched her every move. I was curious how she was dealing with her loss. What could I say? My heart grew sad again... it felt as if I was reliving the news... it felt like I had never truly grieved his loss... and to be honest with you, I don't think I have. Somewhere you begin to tuck all of these things away. Somehow you create caverns to hold these feelings... you have to. You have to be there for everyone else. You have to. And so I send my thoughts, love, prayer, and hope out to "D's" mother and his family. To the friends that loved him and the teachers who taught him. I send my love, thoughts, and prayers out to him. I wish we didn't have to lose him. I wish he saw a future for himself. It hurts each time I lose one of them. It hurt when I lost you.

R.I.P "D"


Ms. Williams