MEMORABLE MOMENTS MAKE US
Memorable moments and unique experiences – those are the things that define us. I never would have imagined one of my defining moments would take place at a child’s funeral, but it did. Tragedy is the teacher that we hope never shows up for class. But when it does, we learn lessons never forgotten.
Marquis Dy’Quan Hudson was his name. He was nine years old. He was young, energetic, and vibrant. I met him through a program I volunteered at while I was in college. The program was called King’s Kids. This program was almost like weekly Vacation Bible School meets free Uber-by-church-bus. Every Tuesday night we would go to the J.C. Napier and Tony Sudekum housing projects and pick up as many kids as were willing to come. We would feed them animal crackers and leave them with Kool-Aid smiles. We encouraged them to burn off all their energy playing games in the gym, use globs of glitter making the best masterpiece crafts, and absorb anything their exhausted brains would allow them to about Jesus during story time. It was complete and utter chaos 100% of the time but I found myself loving every second of it. I was doing something that truly mattered and it felt good.
I’ll never forget the night I was working at the local grocery store and closing the customer service desk when my friend Rob called me. Looking at his name on my caller ID felt strange. He had never called me so late at night before. Something in me said I needed to answer this call despite being clocked in at work. He asked me where I was. He said he had some news to share. I pressed him for more information but received one reluctant no after another. He was adamant that we needed to speak in person. When I made it back to my college dorm, he was waiting outside on the porch swing for me. He fumbled his fingers and struggled to make eye contact with me as he carefully unpacked the news he had to share.
One of our King’s Kids had died.
Marquis Dy’Quan Hudson was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was shot and killed. He wasn’t shot on a street corner or in a public store. He was shot in his aunt’s living room. Through a lover’s spat or some unbeknownst disagreement between adults, someone shot through an apartment’s entry door. They didn’t know that two of those bullets would find nine-year-old Marquis. They didn’t know that those bullets would leave a life cut short, dreams unfulfilled, and a future unlived, but they did. Marquis never got to see high school, his first car, or even the age of ten.
A week went by and the date of the funeral arrived. A few volunteers from the program decided to attend. I was one of them. I had never been to a funeral before, let alone the funeral of a child. My legs were shaking as I climbed what felt like a mountain of stairs to the church’s foyer. I’ll never forget the deafening sound of the wailing I heard as that door cracked open. Through a fog of tension so thick it felt like a humid morning on a river’s edge, I waited my turn and reluctantly signed the family guest book. Seeing a child in a casket is like seeing an oxymoron personified. It was like looking at something that should never exist.
The moments leading up to the start of the service felt never-ending. I watched Marquis’ mother relive her son’s death with every loved one who entered that sanctuary. Each person understood the grief she was experiencing in a way as unique as their relationships. She was inconsolable. I don’t know how she was standing.
As the time for the service to start drew near, the pastor announced that the proceedings would begin in a few short moments and that the casket would be closed. A few final family members approached the casket to say their last goodbyes. The final two people were men – Marquis’ biological father and Marquis’ stepfather. Before I could venture another thought, fists started to fly and screams filled the room. Marquis’ casket was nearly knocked to the ground by the two men who loved him the most. Everyone started to flee to the back of the sanctuary. I felt like I couldn’t watch what was happening before me but I also couldn’t turn away. My friend Rob stood in front of me as the fist-fight moved up the aisle and eventually past us. The funeral never happened. The next day, the front page of the paper read: “Fight at funeral robs boy of final tribute.”
Our memorable moments and our most powerful experiences define us.
This is one of the first moments that defined me – the woman sitting behind this keyboard who intends to share her heart with you. You see, I had a bit of an epiphany standing in the back of that sanctuary on the day of Marquis’ funeral. I learned something about myself. I learned that I NEVER want to see that kind of injustice take place in another person’s life EVER again. I know I was put on this earth to do everything in my power to prevent that which failed in Marquis’ life from failing in the lives of others.
So who is this girl in that tiny thumbnail of a picture below? Who is this girl that is going to be pouring out her heart and her life to you and hoping you benefit from it in some way, shape, or form?
I am:
-A fierce warrior against injustice.
-A loyal friend.
-A woman who will shamelessly and unapologetically speak authentic truths.
-Empathic to a fault.
-One who wears her heart on her sleeve
-An overprotective, single stepmom.
-A believer in the good of others.
-A cultivator of potential – RISE UP!
-A prisoner of hope.
-A woman desperately in love with Jesus and fights her hardest to let others see Him in her.
And lastly, a blogger who cannot wait to journey through this crazy life with you!
About the Author: Nicole
Nicole currently lives in Tampa. She loves her son called Ar’Mondo and her church home called Crossover. Nicole has a background in social work, has done some masters work in counseling and is currently working as an Underwriter for a Home Insurance Company based out of the Tampa Bay area. She is a fan of the color purple, all things chocolate and is obsessed with glitter eye shadow. She believes laughter is the best medicine and tries to take her medicine as often as possible. Nicole tries to find the silver lining on dark cloudy days whenever possible. She loves Jesus and loves people and tries to do both well.
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