“Shaquan! He’s gone,” his mother cried. Her tears we joined in our community, as we grieved  the death of a once lively 25 year old, who did not make it to his first day of work at a bakery on July 13.

His mother saw him earlier that day with his friends as they were on the way to Salsa on St. Clair.  She had $25 in her pocket so she gave him $20 to spend on whatever. What she heard next was what every mother does not want to hear.

I spoke with Sherodon, Shaquan’s mom. I then visitedA Cesar’s mom.

I still weep remembering Cesar in this video I share here. Both Shaquan and Cesar lived in this neighbourhood. They grew up together and were friends. When the media uses words such as “known to each other,” “it was a targeted shooting,” etc. it sends a code, and that is a code that we refuse to agree with. They were loved.

These two men were mothers’ sons, they were some people’s brothers,  neighbours,  young men hoping to go to space or just be a basketball star.

We will not be afraid, in grief we will hold vigils, prayer circles, and we will cherish all who are with us, and hold each other in this pain and continue to remember.

Cesar was also at Salsa that day. I visited  his mother after hearing the very horrible news and saw the striking resemblance, that mischievous smile of a young boy who also loved basketball, who dreamt of going to outer space.

At the funeral  I also saw young people with T-shirts bearing Dudley Laws’ face, the next generation of BADC. They were there to share in the grief, to demonstrate their respect for this life that mattered, to shout that love will always be the last word.