Goodbye Bam.
Posted on December 5, 2009 with 0 comments
A week ago today I was woken up with a call from my friend and neighbor, Mary telling me that my next door neighbor and family friend Bam had been stabbed to death at Club Sinergy in New Haven, CT. Mary's son and Bam were cousins and very close and my son and her son were best friends. At first I thought she was obviously mistaken. I couldn't speak for a few seconds. Like this can't be true. She must be mistaken. It was someone else. I just saw Bam a couple of days ago. But it was true. I started crying and my estranged husband, who was visiting for the Thanksgiving weekend and my 9 year old son who was very close to Bam came in to my bedroom when they heard me crying. I told them everything was fine. I called my husband back in the room and told him what had happened. He also knew Bam. I told him not to tell Julian yet until it could be done right. Bam was like a second son. He spent alot of time with both my 9 year old, his cousin Mary's son and my older son Jovan playing video games, going swimming at his cousins house. My older son's son and Bams son were the same age, so they hung out together. Its funny because when I first brought my house, I bumped heads with Bam and his grandmother Mrs. Carr a few times about his parking his car in front of my house and hooping it up with his friends. Soon after he and my older son Jovan started hanging out and then everybody started hanging out. Bam was always so respectful and pleasant " Hello Miss Renay, how you doing?".
My husband didn't wait to tell Julian. He went out to the livingroom and immediately told him what happened. This was Julians first experience with death and I wanted it to be done right. My husband thought he needed to deal with reality right then. Needless to say, Julian lost it. He asked a lot of questions about how it happened and where Bam was.
For the next week, I would find myself breaking out in tears constantly, feeling hollow and incredibly sad. My son Jovan was stabbed two years ago and still suffers from PTSD related tremors from it. I cried for his grandmother who was heading a house hold of three men who all needed her guidance and support. She raised Bam and he was the youngest of the three men. I cried for Bam's son and his fiancee. I cried for all that he could have done and will never get a chance to do. I cried for the senselessness of how he died. I cried for my son Jovan who would lose a friend so suddenly and in the same way he was attacked. I cried for my son Julian and his friend who would never see or laugh with or talk to Bam again. They don't understand death. I cried for me because I would never hear Bam say " Hi Miss Renay, how you doing? I went to the funeral today Saturday, December 5th. It was massive. People lined the streets attempting to fit into Pitts Chapel. People in the hallways, on the stairs, in the overflow chapel, in the dining hall, in the church, everywhere. Little kids, teenagers, men and women, White, Black, Hispanic. I stood at the top of the steps and heard the minister share how he found out about Bam being murdered. Bam sent a text message right before he went into Sinergy and he told the recipient that he was safe. The minister told that Bam's life should be celebrated and to remember that his life was not in vain. Revenge is not the answer. I looked around and saw so many young black men and hoped that they heard what the minister was saying. More black men die at the hands of other black men than anything else. I cried for those who would die today at the hands of their brothers. I wondered how many people were friends, family and those who were fascinated. there was a problem with the sound system so all those who were in the basement of the church could not hear or see anything. I remained for about 40 minutes and then I left. I wanted to say hello to the family, but I realized that this was my time to say goodbye and although I did not enter into the church, I did what I needed to do. I am in this for the long haul to listen, bring food, pray, do whatever I could. I would see everyone later today at the house.
When a loved one is taken from us, we are left to wonder why, to wish we had done things differently, to hold each other a little tighter, to sigh a bit heavier, to question the unanswerable, to grapple with the senselessness of it all. We are also left with the memories of his gentleness, his kindness, his courageousness, his humor, his zest for life, his compassion and his hope. Although his physical presence is gone, in each of us his spirit will live on.
My husband didn't wait to tell Julian. He went out to the livingroom and immediately told him what happened. This was Julians first experience with death and I wanted it to be done right. My husband thought he needed to deal with reality right then. Needless to say, Julian lost it. He asked a lot of questions about how it happened and where Bam was.
For the next week, I would find myself breaking out in tears constantly, feeling hollow and incredibly sad. My son Jovan was stabbed two years ago and still suffers from PTSD related tremors from it. I cried for his grandmother who was heading a house hold of three men who all needed her guidance and support. She raised Bam and he was the youngest of the three men. I cried for Bam's son and his fiancee. I cried for all that he could have done and will never get a chance to do. I cried for the senselessness of how he died. I cried for my son Jovan who would lose a friend so suddenly and in the same way he was attacked. I cried for my son Julian and his friend who would never see or laugh with or talk to Bam again. They don't understand death. I cried for me because I would never hear Bam say " Hi Miss Renay, how you doing? I went to the funeral today Saturday, December 5th. It was massive. People lined the streets attempting to fit into Pitts Chapel. People in the hallways, on the stairs, in the overflow chapel, in the dining hall, in the church, everywhere. Little kids, teenagers, men and women, White, Black, Hispanic. I stood at the top of the steps and heard the minister share how he found out about Bam being murdered. Bam sent a text message right before he went into Sinergy and he told the recipient that he was safe. The minister told that Bam's life should be celebrated and to remember that his life was not in vain. Revenge is not the answer. I looked around and saw so many young black men and hoped that they heard what the minister was saying. More black men die at the hands of other black men than anything else. I cried for those who would die today at the hands of their brothers. I wondered how many people were friends, family and those who were fascinated. there was a problem with the sound system so all those who were in the basement of the church could not hear or see anything. I remained for about 40 minutes and then I left. I wanted to say hello to the family, but I realized that this was my time to say goodbye and although I did not enter into the church, I did what I needed to do. I am in this for the long haul to listen, bring food, pray, do whatever I could. I would see everyone later today at the house.
When a loved one is taken from us, we are left to wonder why, to wish we had done things differently, to hold each other a little tighter, to sigh a bit heavier, to question the unanswerable, to grapple with the senselessness of it all. We are also left with the memories of his gentleness, his kindness, his courageousness, his humor, his zest for life, his compassion and his hope. Although his physical presence is gone, in each of us his spirit will live on.