On the morning of March 13, I was BIG vibin. Realistically, I was tired as that thang because Matthew and I decided to hit the city the night before and…well, you know the rest. This particular morning was great though. For some reason, I woke up with a smile on my face as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. The sun peeked in through the blinds and for some reason, I knew it was a good day for a good day. My phone awoke with a notification that I had memories from a year prior, so I tapped in and laid in bed looking through old pictures. I love memory lane, primarily because of the ways in which pictures capture so much in one frame. Love. Peace. Laughter. Joy. All that. There is also great joy in watching the ways in which we have grown over the years, complemented by the stark reminder of how much our lives can change in such a short period of time. I was laughing like a mad man when my phone also reminded me that I had an appointment in 10 minutes to receive my CoVID vaccination. I threw on some clothes, concluded perfectly by my Jordan ‘Fearless’ kicks, and hit the road. As I made my way to the facility and got in the drive-up line, I received a Snapchat from my cousin Nick. Now, for those of you who know Nick, you know that the contents of that Snapchat could be legitimately anything…but most likely, it’s some nonsense or to my usual delight, flashback memories from our illustrious movie-esce life (bet money someone makes a movie about those Williams boys one day). What I received in that message would change the trajectory of my entire week, as Nick shared the tragic news that my dear childhood friend Tradena ‘Tweet’ Peters was murdered the night prior in a shooting on I-270 in my city of St. Louis, Missouri. She was 31 years of age. My iPhone crashed to the floorboard as I sat in my car…trying to make sense of what I just learned. I stared into the Florida sun as the heat created beads of sweat to compliment the incessant flow of tears. Tweet was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. Once I was finally able to get my hands to function, I filled out my questionnaire and got my vaccination, followed by a FaceTime call to my mother and sister to break the news. We all sat in disbelief as our noticeably-broken hearts mourned together. Understandably, I took the day off and spent it with my people by the pool. We grilled up a feast and I did my best to keep my mind busy because I truly could not begin to understand how my childhood friend did not wake up this morning but…this is not the end.

You see, life is tough because the writing is on the wall from the moment we are born. The tough reality is: we are born, we live, and we move on. That’s just the way it goes in regard to human existence. This isn’t a story about how life is bad or anything of that nature, I would just like to take this moment to share with you a few reminders. First of all, the mourning process isn’t easy or comfortable for any of us, and when we experience so much of it…we oftentimes become somewhat numb when we hear the next news. Additionally, the dark cloud of helplessness tends to creep in when we feel surrounded by death after death, but we have to keep fighting and do the internal work to combat the mountains of generational pain within our DNA. I know that is easier said than done, trust me…but we have to keep it moving and carry the torch in the most amicable way. Our people would want that from us, as we would want that for others when we reach our Earthly conclusion. The transition is inevitable, but that…is not the end.

I would invite you to allow yourself to feel…all of it. The good. The bad. Especially, the ugly. We must allow ourselves to laugh through the highs and cry through the lows. In the time since hearing the news, I have gone through every emotion. Every single one: laughter in thinking of the good times, tears in thinking about the reality of her transition, rage in thinking about her time being cut short, and helplessness in knowing that all of that was out of my control. But…that’s okay. There is no singular way to grieve. For each of us, it will be different…and we must accept that for what it is and be there for one another.

There is also something to be said about this thing called survivor’s guilt. Honestly, I was unaware of this concept until my therapist told me about it one day as she was breaking things down about my dear friend David’s untimely passing. Essentially, survivor’s guilt exists as a mental condition that happens when someone (such as myself) has survived traumatic events when others were not so lucky. For me, it happens every time I lose one of my friends (especially those from childhood) because admittedly, I feel some sort of responsibility and guilt for ‘not being there’ or ‘not keeping enough contact.’ We work through these mental complexes of thinking that it was somehow our responsibility to ‘save’ our people from their untimely conclusions. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has also wondered, “why them…but not me?” I have stared death straight in the eye on more than one occasion, and it hurts me to know that they undoubtedly experienced the heights of the visceral fear that I did during those times. It’s traumatic. It’s scary. Its…real. Thankfully, my therapist was paramount in helping me to understand the ways in which I can turn that pain into power, which is why you are reading these very words. As you know, I live for my people and I walk the walk with their love in my soul. All of them live rent-free in my heart and they now exist as the angels that guide our steps because their Earthly conclusion is not the end. That’s the best way I can cope to keep “entering into a world that I don’t trust” (Phillips, 2019, para. 54). I would encourage those who are feeling this pain to do a few things:

1. Be honest and gentle with yourself. Survivor’s guilt is a serious condition, often tied to PTSD. For those of us who grew up in underserved areas, it can happen a lot and become quite a weight to bear if left unchecked. We are not alone with these feelings, nor is it healthy for us to feel as if we are. At the very least, I am with you. We just have to understand that we cannot hold ourselves responsible for things outside of our control. We must forgive ourselves for the guilt that we feel (even for being alive), primarily because we must always let people live their lives while not attempting to exercise control (or guilt) in regard to what happens as they move forward.

2. Seek counsel from the people who can help. By this, I would recommend going to www.psychologytoday.com and finding a therapist to suit your needs. For others, this person could be a relative or a pastor…but seek out help. In the Black community, we are not privy to asking for help. Instead, we sometimes feel as if we have to go at it alone and ‘do what we gotta do,’ so to speak. Although some of that is true, we also have to recognize that we deal with 467,000 other things on the daily…just because we have Black skin. Sometimes, we could all use a hand.

3. Do your research and spend less time on social media. Read articles like this one, or tap into the words of people who have been through this type of trauma. It is important that we be gentle with our hearts, while also being intentional about our progression. Amicable movement is important, as we have garnered many reminders that time is not on our side. We have to work smarter AND work harder to ensure that we are healing ourselves, our communities, and our people at-large. It’s up to us. We must do better because the weight of generational pain is causing our people to not care who lives and who dies…and that is not helping us, whatsoever.

4. Allow people to be there for you. I have shed tears intermittently since reading that Snapchat message, and I was intentional in making sure my people knew that I would not be myself. It was weird (to be honest) because as previously mentioned in No. 2, I always have the feeling that I must retreat to my bedroom and deal with my grief alone…but that’s simply not true. My people showed up in waves and they helped me pick up the pieces. Yours will do the same, but you must be confident/vulnerable and let them in…

5. Take time off. As I mentioned, none of this is easy and sometimes it can be a bit too much to try to act like it doesn’t hurt as much as it really does. For me, I had to be intentional with my grief and tell my people that I needed a minute. We have to become more comfortable with letting our respective circles know what is going on in our lives while not feeling like we have to be too forthcoming. We simply have to share what is necessary to take the time we need. Pragmatically, that could be to skip large events or spaces where there are a lot of people we don’t know, primarily to allow ourselves some space to breathe and work through our emotions. Again, not to say that we have to go at this thing alone but it is more to say that we need to be honest with how we feel and take the necessary precautions to make sure that we can catch our breath. I told all of my clients, students, and athletes that I would not be at work. I just needed this time to make sense of losing someone I basically shared a crib with, and they understand that I am the best me to guide them if I am…well, me.

   1. I know that some of us do not have such freedom, I am just encouraging that we are honest with what we need and how we feel. We must take the time that we can get to get our legs back under us, and then let’s brush ourselves (or, each other) off and keep living for our people. We must persevere.

As I lead to the finale, I must admit that I still feel guilty to be alive while my friends and family have transitioned…especially those like my good friend Tweet who went in an untimely manner. My heart hurts. My soul mourns. I’m struggling, but I am fighting. I have always promised to fight, and I will continue to do. Life must go on, and the clock does not stop. To my people, we must take the time to heal our communities and cease the violence. We must start by doing the work in our own hearts, followed by the careful reconstruction of our people. Our people are dying every day, and I for one am tired of burying my friends. I imagine we all are. It pains me to see the ways in which our grandparents had most of their constituents until late ages, but we won’t have that luxury because we attend more funerals than our grandparents do. It’s time to do the work, my good people. Enough is enough. Tweet should be here…

Letter to Tweety Lashay

Tweet tweet, I love you so much and I am sorry this happened to you. I cannot imagine what your mother and daughter are going through right now, but I know you will give them the love and strength to carry on that you have so graciously given to all of us your entire life. It breaks my heart that I will never get to see you smile again, nor will I ever get the chance to finally beat you in a footrace. You used to make me so mad as a kid because you were swift with the kicks and my little twig legs simply couldn’t keep up. I remember all of the days and nights spent together and I will never forget your grace. You had the kindest heart and you were the type of person to go the extra mile for anyone. It’s amazing in a way because I can still hear your voice in my head. I vividly remember the times when I would catch you caroling to yourself before you realized that you had the voice of an angel; you truly were a songbird. You had the type of laughter that could light up any room, and I don’t think I have ever known anyone who kept it G as much as you did. We always smiled when you were around and it breaks me to my core to know I will never get to go to cookouts and talk about these stories with you down the road. I truly am so sorry, and I will do my best to make you proud. I promise. The last thing you ever said to me one night was, “I always knew you were different, so keep going, bro. We will be here when you get back.” Those words have rung like church bells in my mind since hearing the news of your untimely passing, but now…I am at peace. I will keep going, as instructed. This is not the end, as your spirit will live within the hearts you touched…por siempre. Thank you for always being there, and with your angelic guidance, I will carry on in your honor and continue to spread love and grace to all that I interact with. Judging by the arsenal of lives that you have positively impacted…I bet I will not be alone in that venture. Please say what’s up to all the homies up there. I love you. Take your rest.

Siempre,

Savant 🌹

thank you for spending a few moments with me. i do value your time and thoughts, so please do not hesitate to send me a message @savantlamont and let me know what you think. i would love to hear from you!