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September 30, 2009
In Honor Of An Honorable Man
Derrion Albert is a name that none should forget. Sadly, not enough is known about this sixteen year-old's life...and too much is left unsaid about his death. He was an honors student in Chicago, stamping grounds for our current President, Barack Obama. I mention this because it will become more pertinent as time progresses.
It is alleged that Derrion's death was a result of his refusal to join a gang. Testimony from witnesses say that he was trying to help a fellow student, caught in the middle of a gang fight. All that is certain is that this young man, whose life showed such great promise, sacrificed his life to save another. He is deserving of our respect and all honor, and our prayers go to his family.
Derrion should be alive right now, attending his classes, earning the admiration of his friends and teachers through his hard work and dedication. He should be gazing at a beautiful girl as he makes his way home from school, imagining what it would be like to talk to her, to hold her hand, to gaze into her eyes, to feel the softness of her lips and the warmth of her breath as they share their first kiss. He should be at his dinner table, laughing with his mother who must be so proud of her son, the center of her universe.
Instead, Derrion's lifeless body is on a cold metal slab. He is being cut open, his body laid bare for his autopsy. His mother has wept since she first heard the news, and she weeps still. Even when all the tears are gone from her eyes, she will still weep until she joins her son at God's side. She must make decisions no parent should ever have to make; can she afford to bury him, or must she be forced to burn his remains? Can she bear looking at his photographs on the wall, but could she bear removing them?
She will spend most of her time in his room, breathing his scent and hearing his voice. She will clutch a shirt to her face and close her eyes, knowing that it will not lessen her pain, but knowing that she must find a way to feel him. She will feel a swell of pride in remembering he died as a hero, and yet she will curse herself for raising him to be one. She will blame herself, the monsters that killed her son, the society that allowed such a thing to pass, and even God Himself for creating such evil in the world.
Over and over, she will ask Why? But no answer will ever give her solace. No answer will let her wake from this nightmare to hold her son again.
And every day, she will see her son being killed again and again.
I will not add to his mother's suffering. I will not provide critics to claim that I am politicizing this young man's death by discussing why, ultimately, this tragedy came to pass. For now, I am a parent who greatly fears for the safety of my own children. For now, there is only mourning
Posted by TFMo at September 30, 2009 02:52 PM
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Comments
Now, that brought tears to my eyes.
His poor mother....
Posted by: christmasghost at September 30, 2009 10:47 PM