I am writing you this letter, because I’ve learned not to let things toss around in my head too long. Doing so has the potential to cause me to adopt self destructing behaviors. So this is to you…Dear John Doe,

I don’t know if you will ever be arrested or caught for shooting my son; nor do I know if you will ever come across letter… Just in case you do there are some things I’d like for you to know. I want you to know these things, because I don’t want to believe you are some monster somewhere hurting people. Maybe you are? If you are would it be too much to ask you to let my son be the last person you ever hurt? I’d like to ask you why? Perhaps you don’t know. Do you know him? Did he do anything to you? Do you have any remorse? I have so many questions for you. My son is loved. Let me tell you about him.

His name is Damion. He is 16 years old. I became his mommy when I was 27 years old. I wasn’t expecting him and his twin, but sometimes the greatest blessings are those unexpected.

My son was born strong. He was born with a genetic disorder. I’ve been helping him fight for his life for a long time. Never in a million years did I expect to see my son laying on a table like a piece of bloody meat. I don’t know what moment I forgave you, but the moment I saw his eyes and he reached for me I think that was the moment. It may have been the moment I listened to the mother next door scream out because her son died. I scooted a little closer to mine and I held his hand. I didn’t think of you in that moment. I thought of how special my son must be to God to spare his life. In that moment I didn’t feel anything but overwhelming gratitude to God. I know God must love you too, because you are living. I don’t know you or your mother, but you connected us the night you shot my son. What I know about all of us is we reap what we sow. It’s my tears tonight, but it will be your mother’s tears another night. Even now I pray that she has the strength to endure. I love being a mother. I was called to do this. I am not a perfect mother, but I’m that mother that has stood in lines in the cold to get my son help that he has needed, only to be told no. I didn’t give up. I’ve never given up on my son. He always has me. As a little child my son would look in my eyes and he was so happy. He was happy with mostly anything. He has been a handful for me to raise alone. I can’t lie about that. I’ve struggled. I’ve worked jobs for pennies, stayed in situations I knew was temporary to provide for him, I’ve disciplined him and loved him unconditionally. I have tried my very best to raise him to be the best man he can be. I know I’ve made some mistakes, but my heart has always been in the right place. My son loves people unconditionally. He will give his last to a stranger. I never have to wonder if I can depend on him, because he is always willing to help his mama. I am honored to be his mommy.

He likes basketball, the rapper famous Dex, sunflower seeds are his favorite snack, he loves clothes and shoes. He has a billion dollar smile.

He is also scared of the world. He doesn’t have a father in his life. He wants to start his own business. He has been bullied ten of his 16 years on this earth. He is different. He has been labeled special needs, but I renamed his label special ability.

You may not care about one thing I’ve said in this letter, but I refuse to believe you are a monster. I extend an olive branch to you. I forgive you. I will pray for you each night until I feel a release in my spirit.

When you are ready, God is waiting to change your life.

Sincerely,

Deana Rice mother of Damion

#forgiveness #stoptheviolence #gunviolence #survivor #stronger #prayingmother