I am thinking of you today. And of all the babies who've been murdered--no matter what their age. But there you were on March 11--dead. On the streets of Chicago. You, you are haunting me today, floating in and out of my mind because of how you died. And why. No baby should be killed while her father changes her diaper. Your father, Jonathon, was holding you on his lap, changing your diaper. Changing your diaper. I can't get that detail out of my head. He was in the driver's seat of the minivan and you were shot once, 6-month-old, and you couldn't finish your life. Minivan. Changing Diapers. Sounds so innocent, so safe. But you're dead. Because ... because bullets kill and there was a drive-by and you were... there. On the streets of Chicago, in your daddy's lap. Your dad, 29 with a "long criminal history," a gang member... but he was changing your diaper with such care. And I'm sure he didn't see them coming. I'm sure he didn't. Surveillance cameras saw the getaway car and Facebook has the posts threatening your father. But nothing about the bullets. Or the diaper. Or really, about you. Your mother Judy must be besides herself with grief. I can't imagine how she understands dead and changing diapers.
I wish I could tell you the world will be better for other little girls, that there will be no more 3-foot caskets or diapers left on seats with naked bottoms of babies who won't see their first birthday. I wish I could tell you we were better, can be better. But you're haunting me today. And all I can think is.. he was changing her diapers. I'm sorry, sweet girl. I'm sorry I have no answers beyond these tears, beyond this slow moving rage that has no landing. I'm sorry. I know that's not enough. But I really am sorry.
Please rest, Beloved. Please.
Valerie
© Valerie Bridgeman
July 1, 2013
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