Remembering Petro, Twelve Years Later
Petro was my high-school basketball coach and my guidance counselor. I always sat at the tail end of the bench during our basketball games. But that night, the night he passed away--February 27th, 2007, I opted to sit right next to him. No rhyme or reason. I just wanted to be near him.
This week, marked the 12th year of his passing. I forced myself to not think about it. I usually write about him on the anniversary-- this year, I didn’t. I purposely preoccupied myself with other things to fill up my mental space. For one reason or the other, I was afraid to go there this year.
On my way home from work today, Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came on the radio.“Hips Don’t Lie” was one of Petro’s favorite songs before he passed away. I smiled deeply because vivid memories of him awkwardly dancing to that song at Tanisha Celest's birthday party brought me contentment.
But then a wave of sadness washed over me too. Then, really, really hard memories played out in my head, like a horrific movie that I never wanted to be a part of in the first place. In the car, my stomach knotted up as I recalled how I got up from the bench that night and frantically screamed into the crowd that “something is wrong with Petro!” I remember locking eyes with Kirsten Jeter's dad, in the midst of the crowd, as he tried desperately to calm me down through the chaos.
Today in the car, I was brought back to the moments before Petro collapsed. Kirsten was doing her thing in the game (as per usual), but her leg brace was falling off, so she eagerly asked for a sub, but Petro was slow to respond. It was not like him. And we knew something was wrong.
Then I remembered going home, hoping he was recovering at the hospital, and watching Breaking News flash across my television screen, as I learned on News 12 that Petro had transitioned on. That scream. It was horrific. I pray I never have another one like it in my life.
Then I remembered, how many of us gathered at Sodna Leonard Cadet's home till the wee hours of the morning. Exchanging sweet stories of Petro and wrestling with our emotions, until we had to go to school the next day to the makeshift memorial. Some of my friends would find out he passed away only once they got to school. So hard.
All of that bombarded me today, simply because Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came on. I was fascinated that after 12 years, that a song could bring me back to all of that complicated history.
It was my reminder that grief and trauma must be acknowledged and grappled with no matter how much time has elapsed. It’s inescapable. Because it will show up someway, somehow.
Petro, you’d be so proud of your girls. Your two gorgeous, biological daughters. Along with all the rest of us of your bonus-daughters. I’d love to have another conversation with you. But I’m so grateful to have been afforded a moment today: to think of you, mourn you, laugh at you, and reminisce of the magic that was you. So grateful to have known you. I love you.
Rest in peace, my friend.
This week, marked the 12th year of his passing. I forced myself to not think about it. I usually write about him on the anniversary-- this year, I didn’t. I purposely preoccupied myself with other things to fill up my mental space. For one reason or the other, I was afraid to go there this year.
On my way home from work today, Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came on the radio.“Hips Don’t Lie” was one of Petro’s favorite songs before he passed away. I smiled deeply because vivid memories of him awkwardly dancing to that song at Tanisha Celest's birthday party brought me contentment.
But then a wave of sadness washed over me too. Then, really, really hard memories played out in my head, like a horrific movie that I never wanted to be a part of in the first place. In the car, my stomach knotted up as I recalled how I got up from the bench that night and frantically screamed into the crowd that “something is wrong with Petro!” I remember locking eyes with Kirsten Jeter's dad, in the midst of the crowd, as he tried desperately to calm me down through the chaos.
Today in the car, I was brought back to the moments before Petro collapsed. Kirsten was doing her thing in the game (as per usual), but her leg brace was falling off, so she eagerly asked for a sub, but Petro was slow to respond. It was not like him. And we knew something was wrong.
Then I remembered going home, hoping he was recovering at the hospital, and watching Breaking News flash across my television screen, as I learned on News 12 that Petro had transitioned on. That scream. It was horrific. I pray I never have another one like it in my life.
Then I remembered, how many of us gathered at Sodna Leonard Cadet's home till the wee hours of the morning. Exchanging sweet stories of Petro and wrestling with our emotions, until we had to go to school the next day to the makeshift memorial. Some of my friends would find out he passed away only once they got to school. So hard.
All of that bombarded me today, simply because Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came on. I was fascinated that after 12 years, that a song could bring me back to all of that complicated history.
It was my reminder that grief and trauma must be acknowledged and grappled with no matter how much time has elapsed. It’s inescapable. Because it will show up someway, somehow.
Petro, you’d be so proud of your girls. Your two gorgeous, biological daughters. Along with all the rest of us of your bonus-daughters. I’d love to have another conversation with you. But I’m so grateful to have been afforded a moment today: to think of you, mourn you, laugh at you, and reminisce of the magic that was you. So grateful to have known you. I love you.
Rest in peace, my friend.
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