This won't be as articulate as I would like because I am racing against the clock. What clock? 7:19. 7:19. 7:19. I can still hear it: "Time of death, 7:19. We should get the family in here." On June 10, two years ago, those are the words that I heard. My son, my only son, was dead. Why? Because he was bullied. Why? Because he was different. So far as I know, he wasn't a member of the LGBT community (though he liked pink, and had chosen a multicolor-striped quilt for his bed, and I guess the stripes could be deemed reminiscent of a rainbow...does that frighten you?) and he wasn't one of your fans. Still, I think you owe him an apology. Why? Because based on what I have read, you made some pretty grand statements about how bullying isn't a big deal, and that people who are bullied should just fight back, and my son was so wounded by years of bullying (by other children, by adults, by systems and institutions) that he made a decision to not live anymore. So either you don't understand the dynamics and impact of bullying and suicide, or you don't care. Then again, I also read that you threatened to kill your own son if he ever acted in a way that would lead you to suspect that he is gay. I sure hope that your ex-wife and your son took note of that threat. And I tell you what: I'd give anything to have my son alive, gay or otherwise, so it seems to me that either you don't understand the dynamics of death and grief or even parenting, or you don't care. That makes me sad for you. Apologize--or rather, apologize for real--then please stay quiet until you learn and grow, and, if necessary, get whatever help will make you whole. After all, we know that bullies lash out from their own pain and fear.
Rest in peace, my beloved Sekai Ayinde Williams.
Forever, I love you, always, Ma.
Posts
WOW - I remember when I took the second picture - those beautiful striking eyes. You were the sunshine in soo many eyes.
ReplyDeleteLike all children of the world, our children come to us through pain. The difference is the pain is theirs alone to bear as they come to us from the depths of abuse or neglect. Born to parents who were able to procreate but not participate in their life’s journey, they enter into our world through client numbers and referral forms.
Instead of photo albums and growth charts on door jams, their lives are documented through the collection of forms, evaluations, individual education plans, and court hearings. Instead of discussions by parents around a kitchen table, the statistics of their lives are gathered and discussed amongst clinical teams.
It is a cold and distant system designed to create a level of distance with connections of the mind and not the heart. Into this world, you was reborn to a group of social workers, lawyers, judges, and foster parents that can change as suddenly as the direction of the wind. Like a flower that pushes itself through the crack of a sidewalk, love and caring still occur and connections of the heart are still made.
But you were different, he was not a child of the system, he was a child of love. He had a mom, he had grandmother, he had Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and he had what all children crave, he had a FAMILY. You can look at the pictures, the smile on his face, the glow in his eyes, whether it was his 3rd birthday party or a celebration of faith, You were ALL THAT.
After 12 years of separation from his family in April 2008, he was reunited with his family. He talked about how much he wished he had been with them for the birthdays, the graduations, the celebrations and everything in between. How do you make up for 12 years? We sure did try, but it was not enough. The hurt and sadness were too overwhelming. You were so concerned about the feelings of others that your hurt, your sadness, your anger was masked. Even in your last days, you talked about making sure that your mom would be OK if you left.
ReplyDeleteAnd when your soul left your body, you were no longer a young boy with CP, what was broken, became fixed. Your hands opened up and your legs straightened out. Your eyes were closed and You were finally, at peace.
Regardless of how the system is designed, He was loved. It was a love born of the warmth of his smile, his laughter, the open hearted way that he greeted all who met him. At first glance, one would notice the wheelchair and the uncoordinated movements of his body. Within the span of a conversation, his physicality was dwarfed by the sound of his laughter, his ability to take such joy in the ordinary, and most importantly, his incredible knack for collecting the hearts of all he met.
He was entering into manhood and taking great pride in the emergence of peach fuzz on his chin. His workers morphed into his friends and eventually family. He spoke of feeling limited due to the challenges of his body. He was too young and too damaged to understand that the gift of his physical challenge was the compassion that it brought forth in all whose lives he touched. The amount of deliberate effort of his movements allowed those with him to slow down. At this slow pace, his friends were able to appreciate the many wonders of every life that gets lost in the world’s fast pace.
Today, a child died. With that death are the swirling conversations about how and why he died and the assignment of blame and the feelings of guilt. Once the gray clouds of his death fades away and the memories of him lose that painful sting, the brilliant light that survives every life will begin to warm all of his mourners’ days.
It is in that warmth that the true gift of his life will be revealed. Today, we all sit and mourn that cold hard fact that he has gone to heaven. With the gentle passage of time, we will remember him. In that memory, we will know that he loved, he laughed, he played, he sang, and he taught us how to do the same.
In the true light of day, we will all realize that He lived.
I will miss you Handsome, Goodbye
After 12 years of separation from his family in April 2008, he was reunited with his family. He talked about how much he wished he had been with them for the birthdays, the graduations, the celebrations and everything in between. How do you make up for 12 years? We sure did try, but it was not enough. The hurt and sadness were too overwhelming. You were so concerned about the feelings of others that your hurt, your sadness, your anger was masked. Even in your last days, you talked about making sure that your mom would be OK if you left.
ReplyDeleteAnd when your soul left your body, you were no longer a young boy with CP, what was broken, became fixed. Your hands opened up and your legs straightened out. Your eyes were closed and You were finally, at peace.
Regardless of how the system is designed, He was loved. It was a love born of the warmth of his smile, his laughter, the open hearted way that he greeted all who met him. At first glance, one would notice the wheelchair and the uncoordinated movements of his body. Within the span of a conversation, his physicality was dwarfed by the sound of his laughter, his ability to take such joy in the ordinary, and most importantly, his incredible knack for collecting the hearts of all he met.
He was entering into manhood and taking great pride in the emergence of peach fuzz on his chin. His workers morphed into his friends and eventually family. He spoke of feeling limited due to the challenges of his body. He was too young and too damaged to understand that the gift of his physical challenge was the compassion that it brought forth in all whose lives he touched. The amount of deliberate effort of his movements allowed those with him to slow down. At this slow pace, his friends were able to appreciate the many wonders of every life that gets lost in the world’s fast pace.
Today, a child died. With that death are the swirling conversations about how and why he died and the assignment of blame and the feelings of guilt. Once the gray clouds of his death fades away and the memories of him lose that painful sting, the brilliant light that survives every life will begin to warm all of his mourners’ days.
It is in that warmth that the true gift of his life will be revealed. Today, we all sit and mourn that cold hard fact that he has gone to heaven. With the gentle passage of time, we will remember him. In that memory, we will know that he loved, he laughed, he played, he sang, and he taught us how to do the same.
In the true light of day, we will all realize that He lived.
I will miss you Handsome, Goodbye