Remembering Rashad

me, Rashad and his beautiful mother, Monique

When I think of Rashad the first thing that comes to mind is his beautiful smile. It lit up his whole face. Shoot, to be honest, when his mouth smiled it was like his whole body smiled. It seemed to always be present. 

When he first started coming to the house with the other guys he was quiet. I knew he could talk, he just didn't. That changed when he got used to us. Sometimes he would come to the house when no one else was here and he would sit and talk for hours. Even after he left school he would call to chat.

Rashad was a dreamer. He was compassionate and had a big heart. He wanted to make a difference in the lives of inner city kids. One of the dreams he shared with me and discussed often was his desire to open a rec center. A safe place kids could go to hang out, play some ball, work out, do homework. It would be self supported by adults who paid for a membership. 

Rashad stayed in our home the summer of 2012. It was what I call my summer from hell. I was going through "the change" and it changed just about everything about me for awhile. I didn't know who I was and I didn't like the alien who had invaded my body. Often I didn't feel like eating anything. Nothing sounded good. Rashad worked at McDonalds that summer. They had a cherry icy drink. He brought one home for me to try. It tasted wonderful. Every day after that I think he brought me one home. Sometimes two if he came to check on me at his lunch break. And it never failed, before he went to work he would ask if there was anything I wanted him to bring home for me when he got off. He would never let me reimburse him.

There was a long period of time when Rashad went to church with Bill every Wednesday evening. I don't know what they talked about there and back, but Bill was so proud and loved having his company.

I smile and shake my head when I think about the first time he gave me a card and signed it "from your chocolate son". I told him "Rashad, you know there is white chocolate too, right?" He just smiled that smile of his and kept using that nickname with me.

When Bill died Rashad could not come home for the funeral. It bothered him. Later he made a quick trip to Grayson. I asked him if he wanted to see where we had laid Pops. He nodded. Tears were in both of our eyes as we walked. That was probably the quietest time we shared together. I asked him if he wanted some time alone-he said yes so I walked away and he did what he needed to do. We talked briefly after that. He needed to get back home.

52 weeks ago today, one year tomorrow, I got a call from his momma.
A call that shook my world.
Rashad was gone.
I miss him.
His smile.
His random calls.
His big dreams.
His bigger heart.
I will always love him.
I will never forget him. 
And I hope someone makes his dream come true.