Plus go here for Gloria's very powerful poem, When Will the Killing End?
Darian’s Story
When my youngest son, Darian, was shot and killed on the early morning of July 1, 2000, my world as I had known it was drastically and forever changed. I went in a very deep depression and decided that life was now much too difficult for me to deal with and this world was no longer a place I wanted to live in. When I left the emergency room of the Medical Center early that morning, as well as leaving my precious son’s body there, I also left as an entirely different person. My outlook on life was transformed to a person I did not want to be.
Prior to my son’s death, I considered myself to be the happy, religious, God-fearing person my parents had taught me to be, but I suddenly became an angry, desperate person looking for answers. I was confused because I never imagined the God that I knew would inflict such pain on me. He had deserted me and I was angry!! My thoughts were not healthy thoughts; they were not Christian thoughts. I left that place having little or no interest in living. I felt down and depressed and hopeless, and the list goes on.
The Sunday mornings that I used to spend in Church became the Sunday mornings that I would just lie in bed feeling sorry for myself and being angry at God. I asked him many questions, but never received an answer. God, why did you let this happen to my son? Why did you inflict such pain on this family? How do you expect me to get through another day without seeing my son’s face ever again? Why, why, why??
I have always had the support, of course, of my large, Christian family who were always there for moral and emotional support.
One day after my son’s funeral, while going through one of my many mental breakdowns, asking "Why me?", my nephew, Mike, without resentment and so matter-of-factly, just asked me one question. "Aunt Glo, why not you?”
Those few words made me stop and wonder and think about what he had asked me. Why not me? Who am I? Am I so very special that I cannot be touched by pain? If He brings you to it, He will bring you through it! My faith was being tested.
Shortly after Darian was laid to rest, he came to me in a dream, and I could see his handsome face so very clearly as he said to me, "Mom, I can't stay. I have to go back". I believe that those few words were the turning point of my realizing that he was at peace and that God had never forsaken me at all.
When I went to view my baby's body for the first time, I did not fall apart because it was Him holding me up. When I walked down that long isle at the Church services to bid a last goodbye to my son, I did not fall apart because it was Him holding me up. When at the grave site where my boy would be placed and I would never see him again, I did not fall apart because it was Him holding me up. The one set of footprints was never mine but His, holding me up.
My son’s daughter, who was only three years old at the time of his death, is now a professional woman with a baby boy of her own. I know he would be so proud of his baby girl. It is milestone moments like this that make me miss him the most, but God gave me a huge piece of him (my precious granddaughter) before taking him away from me, and my son will remain in my heart forever.
Rest in peace, my baby boy! I love you eternally!
Go here for more from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence 2022.
