Today is still an important day in my life. Twenty-two years ago, God blessed me with a son. There he was, over 7lbs and 19″, eyes so big they could scan a room in seconds.
Trevin was definitely a, “Mama’s boy.” Family use to say, “Boy, get off of mama and leave her alone!” He was either sitting under me, or lying on my shoulder. I didn’t mind, he was my baby. I had to tell him at least three times a day that I loved him, or he aggravated the heck out of me.
You see, he was murdered in 2011 in a drive-by shooting. Since then, times have been rough and a bit unbearable to stand on my own. Everyday, I force myself to let go and let God heal me from this pain. The pain of over-whelming sadness. The pain of finding myself so deep in depression that it’s hard to find the light of life that once shined so brightly within me, it lit the way for others. I find myself sitting in a room and questioning if the walls are closing in on me, or is it just my imagination running away with me. The guilt of smiling and enjoying life. One minute I’m, “Ms. Happy Go Lucky,” and the next I’m allowing tears to flow down my face because it feels better than the pain of guilt. The pain of being angry with God for allowing such tragedy to happen. There are times I trust God to heal me, but there are also times I find myself praying for Him to forgive me for my unbelief.
The most comforting thing in this tragedy is that I made the decision to donate his organs. Of course, I would much rather have him here. But, at least I know his death was not in vain. Through his organ donation, many others live on and have a fighting chance to live out their purpose. Now I know, his purpose was greater than my pain. The beat goes on, not only for the recipients of his organs, but for a mother which once lost hope.
In the end, I thank God for the twenty-two years with my son.