I’ve always been a poet. My dad went to Lincoln University with Gil-Scott Heron, so I came out of the womb listening to Gil-Scott Heron. – Malcolm Jamal-Warner
Dear Malcolm,
I will never forget where I was when the alert came on my phone. I was sitting in the woods for work. We were having a retreat of sorts in the Santa Fe National Forest for the morning. The cellphone service was spotty at best and most of the time my service said SOS. But every now and then I would get one bar and notifications would come pouring in. Around late morning early noon an alert from the Associated Press came in that you had passed and my entire insides collapsed. I had to find every way I could to hold it together. The disbelief helped. That cannot be right, but of course it coming from the Associated Press made it almost impossible for it to be an error. Yet, I hoped it was. My mind raced to find composure. I certainly could not shout out what I just saw on my phone. It would not make sense to anyone around me. While I am sure there are some around my age that work with me I cannot readily think of who. Even moreso, I am the only African American in my organization. It would not make sense to anyone to break down in tears at that moment. To have to explain why you are crying over a celebrity, but in a space of African Americans we know you were never that even if you were that.
It is complicated at times to understand cousins and play siblings AKA “Brother/Sister from another Mother” to those outside of our community. These connections are deep and I do mean DEEP. There are cousins who I have not spoken to in years who could call me right now and I would get on the first plane smoking to go defend them in whatever capacity they needed. They just need say the word. You became that to so many of us. A cousin and/or brother from another mother. You were an eclectic soul and that meant the world to me. You explored the world and your curiousities without feeling bound. Something I so deeply value in my own life. To explore your interests without worry of what anyone would think and say. Many wish they could live life without those restrictions and you did it effortlessly. You never “Sold Out” or went “Hollywood” on us. You were always willing to speak up and speak about the African American community in a manner that felt real and felt true. I appreciated that despite your own admitted struggles of feeling like enough you overflowed the cups of so many African American boys and girls who grew up with you.
Since you left us I kept thinking about how to describe you to the world as I saw you. You were a regular Brotha who was EXCEPTIONAL. That is all I keep thinking as I grapple with the tears of knowing another Brotha being gone far too soon. I took for granted that we would see you in our older years. That you would continue to impart your wisdom of how you saw the world and just the shining example of being an African American man, son, brother, husband, father, and all the complex layers that come with the lives we live.
There is no need to discuss your accomplishments. We all know them. We all lived them with you. I told a friend today you were someone who I wished I could meet one day and share ideas for our community and knew you would understand. They would be ideas you would love and embrace and support. For me, there are so few that I believe I could have those conversations with in the world and deeply saddens me that now there is one less person in this world I feel I can realte to and who would understand me. It took a lot to hold it together the rest of that day. Until I get home and sit with the stages of grief that it feels like the entirety of African America is trying to find the words for day after day right now. I think about your daughter and wife. How you really were the regular guy just enjoying a family vacation. The regular guy who loved being a father and put her flower in your fitted cap as you left us your final message. It still feels like one of the worst dreams I have ever had. For a community that needs good Brothas and often feels like we have too few this is a blow that I am uncertain we will ever an answer for anytime soon – if ever. I could go on, but there is no need. All I can do, all any of us can do from today forward is think of you, reminisce of you, and try each day to carry just a little of the light you showed to the world in our own way.
May the Ancestors welcome you home.
Your Cousin and Brother from Another Mother,
William
HBCU Money 