Kimberly Kamara is the author of “Where’s My Daddy,” a children’s book aimed at kids who’ve lost a parent to murder. The book was inspired by her family’s continuing journey of grief after her son, Niam Johnson-Tate, lost his life to gun violence on July 5, 2017. Kimberly has two daughters and lives in Germantown with her husband.
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I was sitting in my car when a song came on, “Dear Mama,” by 2Pac Shakur. I began humming the melody and an instant memory popped into my mind.
I visualized my son, Niam, rapping this song to me as he grabbed my hands and we danced to it together. He replayed the song and we continued to dance to it as he sung it to me. We laughed and danced until we were tired. After we finally stopped dancing I sat down and he looked at me and said, “Mom I love you and I thank you for everything you have done for me.”
You see, the many memories we have of our children will come racing into your mind from a word, a voice, a video, a gesture, a smell, or anything one can imagine. The effect each has on you will be different.
Most of my memories of my son, who was killed in 2017, are a mixture with good, bad, funny, serious, etc. The responses I have differ for each one of them depending on my feelings of that day. That day I heard “Dear Momma,” I laughed and laughed until tears dropped down my face. It was a good cry that made me laugh for about 10 minutes.
I recalled when my son got kicked out of school, I was upset with him because it was March and I paid his tuition up until June and couldn’t get the money back. When I got home I couldn’t even look at him, let alone talk to him. I was so frustrated with him and had to find another school for him to go to. He didn’t care because he really wanted to go to the same school with his friends and I did everything in my power to give him a better education that would set him up to go further in life.
I recall me finally talking to him after a day of complete silence telling him how disappointed I was in him, how I wanted more for him and explaining to him why education was so important for our family.
My grandmother dropped out of school when she was in the 8th grade to work to assist in supporting her parents, brother and sister. She always stressed the importance of school and made me promise my children would complete high school and go to college. My son looked at me and said, “Mom I’m so sorry and I will do better in school.” I looked back at him and said to him, you won’t understand the sacrifices I made as a parent until you become a parent.
That day finally came that my son became a father. Like me he stared into his son’s eyes and talked to him. He spoke greatness upon his child and told him his dreams, and desires for him as a newborn. Unfortunately, I will never know what type of father he would have been or the sacrifices he would have made for his child because his life was cut short do to senseless gun violence that has plagued Philadelphia.
A parent dreams to see their child grow into an outstanding, contributing member of society has been cut short. I will never see my son get married, or fully develop into the man I raised him to be, like thousands other mothers in the city, and it’s devastating fact I have to come to grips with. There are times I sit quietly and just imagine my son coming over to check on me before going home to his family. But this will never happen.
Grief creeps up on you and if you’re not grounded you will succumb into the emotional rollercoaster that one may never get off. When grief calls remember you don’t have to answer that grief call.
It’s very important for you to find some type of peace in the memories you shared with your loved one. It’s alright to miss your loved one, to say his/her name, to imagine, to live, find happiness, and find something to smile about.
One may ask how and I will say always try until you perfect that feeling of peace in your life and never allow grief to overtake you again.
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