Children are not supposed to die...Parents expect to see their children grow and mature. Ultimately, parents expect to die and leave their children behind...This is the natural course of life events, the life cycle continuing as it should. The loss of a child is the loss of innocence, the death of the most vulnerable and dependent. The death of a child signifies the loss of the future, of hopes and dreams, of new strength, and of perfection. The families of Zion Holder and Jakerios Bolton have a long journey ahead of them. A journey marked by milestones of memories they will never enjoy. They now must come to grips with the knowledge that their son, grandson, nephew will not be here to attend their senior prom, graduate from high school, enter college or the military. They will never know the pleasure of being husbands, fathers or uncles. In addition to leaving behind parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, classmates and friends, Zion and Jakerious will no longer be here to guide and protect their little brothers. The families and community is dealing with sorrow upon sorrow. 1 Corinthians 15:55 asks us "O, death where is thy sting?" The sting of death is in our hearts, our minds and our memories. I'm praying for all the families as they endure the grief of this tragedy. As I pondered what to say, I thought of the poem, "When Great Trees Fall". It was written by Maya Angelou and it reads as thus:
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
#RestInParadise
#Zion Holder
#Jakerious Bolton
Children are not supposed to die...Parents expect to see their children grow and mature. Ultimately, parents expect to die and leave their children behind...This is the natural course of life events, the life cycle continuing as it should. The loss of a child is the loss of innocence, the death of the most vulnerable and dependent. The death of a child signifies the loss of the future, of hopes and dreams, of new strength, and of perfection. The families of Zion Holder and Jakerios Bolton have a long journey ahead of them. A journey marked by milestones of memories they will never enjoy. They now must come to grips with the knowledge that their son, grandson, nephew will not be here to attend their senior prom, graduate from high school, enter college or the military. They will never know the pleasure of being husbands, fathers or uncles. In addition to leaving behind parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, classmates and friends, Zion and Jakerious will no longer be here to guide and protect their little brothers. The families and community is dealing with sorrow upon sorrow. 1 Corinthians 15:55 asks us "O, death where is thy sting?" The sting of death is in our hearts, our minds and our memories. I'm praying for all the families as they endure the grief of this tragedy. As I pondered what to say, I thought of the poem, "When Great Trees Fall". It was written by Maya Angelou and it reads as thus:
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
#RestInParadise
#Zion Holder
#Jakerious Bolton
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