Final Goodbye

Trigger warning: This story police violence.

At the intersection, I could go right and head home–but turning left would take me…

…to him.

I sighed quietly. I was confused and scared. I really didn't know where to go: to the safety and comfort of my home, my kids…my husband–or to the unknown…visit the discomfort and pain that has been a haunting friend for 25 years. Where should I go?

Standing on the corner of one of the busiest intersections in the city, I froze–contemplating my next move. I thought about my kids, who I adored so much. The kids who are no longer kids–teenage twins–experiencing their first growing pains in life. They have it so easy. They have yet to experience heartbreak.

Then there's my husband–so kind, so honest, so loyal…so trusting. I wanted to tell him about my fears–why I stood at this intersection. Why was I frozen–why I needed to see HIM.

I take a deep breath and count to five in my head:

1. On the one hand, I can let it all go–forget this part of my past–and go back to my family. They need me and, honestly, I need them.

2. On the other hand, it's him–the man who made me who I am. I need to see him, talk to him, scorch him from my system and start anew.

3. Three minutes I've been standing here like a chicken who doesn't want to cross the road to get to the other side.

4. Four corners of this intersection–each with their own stories of joy and pain, despair and resilience. I knew that I had to make a decision…and it was time.

5. I'm sorry, but I have to finish this.

I turn left…on foot.

As I head west, I can't help but to think about the first time I met him:

I was a sophomore in college, a literal 19-year-old know-it-all. He was a transfer student from the East Coast…Brooklyn. To my naïve Midwestern sensibilities, he was the perfect guy: a tall glass of chocolate milk with hints of caramel…all that and a bag of chips, as we said back then.

6’1”, with dark brown skin that looked like it was blessed by the sun. Smooth bald head while rocking a goatee. I knew whoever he was, I was hooked. So ironic to think that now. His eyes hazel…so beautiful, in contrast with his dark skin. His nose, similar to mine–round, yet proud. His lips–just Cupid's bow perfect for kissing.

I wasn't ready for him. I wasn't ready for anything he had to give to me.

Still moving west, on the fifth block now, I pause by the basketball courts. Just remembering him bragging about how well he could dunk before realizing he couldn't play for jack shit. He had told me that he was probably one of the tallest guys around who couldn't play the Blackest sport. I told him track & field was the Blackest sport…and he joined the college team just for that reason.

Smiling with hints of melancholy, I move on. That's what I should have done a long time ago…move on. Sure, I'm married, have 2 wonderful kids and I own a business that helps people from all walks of life…but I can't even help myself right now.

How have I not exorcized this man out of my system?! It's been years–decades–and this man still has me in a chokehold. I don't know what I can do to forget he ever existed. Do I even want to forget about him? Do I want to forget about us? I am so confused.

Three more blocks to go and then I have to make another left. Hmm, something about going left…it's such a thing. When a situation is going bad, it goes left. When you catch your man cheating, it's “to the left, to the left”, as Beyoncé sings. Why is left so wrong?

Two more blocks now and more memories flash as I remember the two of us going off-campus, making pit stops at the corner store: getting candy, buying some records, maybe even getting a Philly cheesesteak or just a ham and cheese on a roll. I really missed those days of innocence.

I must have been in my head because I don't even remember walking the extra block. I'm here now. Exactly where I'm supposed to be at this moment. If only things could have been different. If only time and space allowed us to be together holding each other right now. Unfortunately, that time has passed. There's no space for me in his coffin.

The cemetery…I don't know what it is, but it looks so much smaller than the last time I was here. Maybe that's because the last time I was here I was 22 years old. I didn't have a husband yet. I didn't have kids yet. I didn't have my business yet. I was grown, but I wasn't ready.

I walk to his tombstone…see his name. I read the message on your tombstone:

A beloved son, nephew, and cousin, who was taken from this earth way too soon.

I agree.

I stand by the tombstone and kick it. Is that disrespectful? Probably! I just don't care at the moment. I truly can't help but to be mad at him for everything he put me through. I try my best not to be so selfish or self-centered, but this…THIS…I will be very selfish and very self-centered.

“Hi Chris, it's me. It's been a long time, right? I miss you. I still miss you after 25 years. The last time I talked to you, well, I was 22, homie. Yeah, I'm an OG now. Can't even believe I haven't reached 50 yet. I would ask how you're doing, but I have a feeling that you're doing a lot better than me. You don't have to worry about the current political situation in this country.

“Okay, enough with a small talk, let's get real. It's the anniversary. It's the anniversary of your death. I still think about it. I still have nightmares about it. I think those nightmares will live with me for the rest of my life. How does one move on from seeing the love of her life, an innocent Black man, get gunned down by cops right in front of her? Chris, it's been 25 years and I haven't been able to move on.

“I'm married. Thought you should know. I have two kids. They're twins. They remind me of us, you know? They're always plotting and scheming, but in the best way possible. They are very much community-minded. They are so connected to the culture. I'm very proud of them.

“Bet you noticed I haven't talked about my husband. It's not that I'm embarrassed by him. I'm not. He came into my life 5 years after you were taken from me. I know you know he's not Black. I know you care about those things. He's a good man. The one thing he doesn't know about is this part of my life. He doesn't know about you even though you have probably seen everything about him and me. Looking down, of course…not looking up.

“I just wanted you to know that I'm okay. I'm not really okay, but I'm okay. I still talk with your mom. Spoke with her today. Chris, you're about to see her soon. She hasn't just dealt with losing you. She's had to deal with your father leaving her after you were killed. She's had to deal with the media, especially on anniversary years…like this year. You were her only baby and she lost you.

“When I say I haven't moved on, I'm not talking about not progressing in life. I'm talking about the fact that I still think about you regularly…in ways I should be thinking about my husband. I think about what it'd be like If you hadn't been gunned down. If you hadn't been murdered by cops, what would you be doing right now? Would we be together? Would the twins be yours? Would I have even met my husband?

“I do love him. I truly do, but I can't help thinking about you and that has to end. It could be the injustice of it all. It could be that we never got to finish our love story. It could be that we never had the chance to truly say goodbye. How could we? You were taken from me so quickly.”

I pause just bowing my head as hot, stubborn tears roll down my face. I'm not a cryer. I don't sob. I'm angry, I'm hurt, and I'm in pain. The one person who could comfort me isn't here with me now.

“I'm a mess, Chris,” I continue to speak like the tombstone will answer…like Chris will bust out from his coffin like a haint possessing a dead body.

“I love you Chris. I probably always will, but I can't hold on to you. I can't hold on to these feelings I have for you. I have to let them go. I have to be able to love my family…to love my man the way he deserves to be loved.

“I know, it's not your fault that you're no longer here. I get it. I understand because I was there. I can't hold your memories forever. I physically moved on a long time ago. But mentally…emotionally, I'm still there and I can't be there anymore.

“So this is goodbye. I love you & I'll miss you, but I have no choice but to move on and continue to fight for the families who have lost loved ones to unnecessary violence. That will always be in honor of you.”

I stand up, wipe stray dirt from my clothes, stare at the tombstone for the last time:

“Goodbye Chris,” I whisper.

At the intersection, I could go right and head home…and I do.