Monday, September 10, 2012

Year of writing 250. Grief

9/8/12


I found out on Saturday night that one of my students was killed in Hayward earlier that week.  Tony Jones was a chubby 8th grader who was always smiling, joking and talking about how he was going to make it big.  His uncle or cousin had a studio somewhere, and Tony would come after class with a fresh cd-rom to show off - his lyrics were all about having fun and being a kid, I remember that much.  Tony was killed on Monday by a friend of his who had stolen a 22 caliber handgun from a 90 year old WW2 veteran the weekend before.  Three days earlier, I had been speaking to Tony online, he sent me a message, wanting to catch up and talk about how he was a little nervous about becoming a father, his girlfriend is due in a week with a little girl.  The last thing I told  him was to always be there for her. 

I don't know if it's because of our conversation, or that I've lost so many kids, and I have no more capacity for grief, but I have no idea what to do with it.  I don't know where to put it, what to do or say, or even how to hold myself with this.  Oakland, I love you, your children are beautiful - please, please protect them.

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