One of the most insulting days in my life was the day after my grandmother died. Life around me went on as usual and I was ticked off. While I took off of work and took a leave from graduate school to make arrangements, pick up nutty relatives from the airport and they were nutty, run errands for my granddad, and just plain breathe in my new normal w/o her, I noticed that life didn’t stop just because mine had. 

Talk about a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking grief. But the gut-wrenching, heart-breaking part didn’t happen until the last guest left the house. Until that day, I walked around fully functional and aware of everyone else’s needs. But that’s what I do.

I didn’t notice a shift in my spirit until the day of her funeral when our limosine was leading the funeral procession behind the hearse. I looked out of the window at passersby and realized that there were no flags at half-mast, no onlookers holding their hats against their chests and no activity telling me that everyone else cared as much as me about losing Irene Doss. I thought, This ain’t no parade.

Well, the days that follow the loss of loved ones is anything but a parade. We can say things like “Oh, they’re in a better place” or “Let’s celebrate the life of…” but at the end of the day, it’s a loss and it hurts like hell. 

I write this in light of the tragic, heinous murders of Jennifer & Julia Hudson’s mother and brother and in light of the evil, brutal murder of that baby Julian King. There might be people lined up and down the street to witness and share their compassion during the funeral procession, but when it’s all over and they have to move forward without Darnell, Jason and Julian, Julia and Jennifer are going to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it ain’t no parade.

Yesterday, I had to deal with something I haven’t dealt with in a couple of years and that’s the execution style murder of my cousin, Bre. It was such a cold and heartless death my cousin experienced in his own home. Some men in the neighborhood killed my cousin; they hated that Bre turned his life around and was teaching other men and boys life skills and occupational skills to turn theirs around too . I screamed a blood curdling scream the day I received that phone call, because Bre was one of my favorites. He was the little boy who use to bug the heck out of me to play when I was a teenager. He was the most beautiful child and someone in their evil and probably their own hurt, killed my precious cousin. All of these folks showed up for his funeral too, lined the streets and even took off their hats, but in my heart I knew it ‘ain’t no parade.’

At any rate, pray for Jennifer and Julia. Pray that God in His priceless mercy and grace, holds them and leads them through the darkest hours of their lives — the days when you discover that there is a hurt that you absolutely cannot control or do anything about. 

And I ask that you pray for me, because I cannot get over my anger or understand the mind of one or ones who’d kill a child so unmercifully. I cannot… 

Best, Robin

fiftydaystofifty@gmail.com