The weight on the shoulders of a Black mother who has violently lost her child is immeasurable. Especially when that loss comes at an unexpected time, for an unexpected reason that adds her sons name to a list of names that we are reminded to say. As this mother shares her experience of trying to hold her family together in the midst of the pandemic while also keeping a close watch on her strong-willed teenage son, our heart breaks for her reality. Her son is inquisitive. He asks all the right questions and even at a young age wondered why Black boys like him had to die and why they too couldn't rest in peace. Where a peaceful protest with good intentions begins, the fear of the evolution of unrest begins. The reality for this mother that no matter how strong the child/ parent relationship is there will always be a topic of protest that children don't want to share with their parents. What this mother learns in the end is that she raised an amazing son, he was empathetic to the human struggle, who had he been given the chance would have grown into an amazing young man.

But daily she faces the reality that her son is gone and she wonders if she'll ever truly be able to say his name without it being surrounded in grief. She hopes one day to be able to say his name the way that she used to¿ before he died.