Dear_______,

Dear _____,

I wanted to take time to process my emotions over these last few weeks. This whole year has been a complete mess. Kobe Bryant died, Covid-19 is running rampant, and then you died. In 2020 you lost your life. You weren’t the only one. There were so many. So many and counting. There was sadness. There was anger. There was hopelessness. There was rage. And there was despair. For a moment I didn’t think it could get this bad but it did. And honestly it has been getting worse. There are more people dying. I say people because they are human first. Before anything else they are human beings. Image bearers of God. Our fellow countrymen. They are American. All of these characteristics are true. So why is it the only characteristic that matters is if they are black. The only thing that the police see is the melanin in their skin. That is what is the defining factor of their lives or death.

People are outraged. More people than normal. I don’t really know if this is because of the quarantine due to Covid-19, but this was something that could not be ignored. You couldn’t look away or deny when his/her/their bodies laid lifeless. We could not ignore. This is 2020. This is not 1940. This is not 1960, not even 1993, but 2020.

Some have the gall to say that it’s a hoax. That the stunt of a white man pressing his knee into the neck of another human being was set up. They say that as the human being whose neck was being crushed for 8 minutes and 46 seconds was faking. That this human being who called out for his mother as his life slipped away was just “acting.”

Others are more focused in trying to control the narrative. Instead of calling it what it is, they want to narrow it down to just this particular policeman, or this particular white person. When the reality is, there’s a LOT of people who share their sentiments. I took the time to step away from my blog, because I wanted to be sure when I came back I had something of substance to say. While people are looking for ways to escape, or others just want to “get back to normal,” I’m here to tell you that normal isn’t coming back.

I hope that when you read this, you feel the pain that I feel. I want the hurt and the sadness to be palpable. I want you to understand, that at the end of the day human lives were lost. It could have been me, my husband, my son, my father, my brother, my sister, my mother, my grandfather my cousins, my uncles, my aunts, my friends, my neighbors. It could have been me. It. Could. Have. Been. Me.

There’s so much more to say and so much more to unpack. I can’t decide on what name to put, because there’s so many. This letter is for the Georges, the Breonnas, the Sandras, the Trayvons. So many names that I can’t pick just one. This letter for whoever needs it most. And it’s for me. So I don’t ever forget. I just want to let you know, that I won’t forget this moment in history. I won’t forget your cries, your laments. Or your final words. They’ve been etched into my mind and my heart. And I hope the world hears your cries for years to come. And with it, I pray change will come.