The Pain We Felt When We lost You Latorrie December 13th 2017
I remember the morning so vividly. I was getting ready for work and I dressed in all black thinking nothing of it. I looked at myself and I smiled, cause I felt at peace. Simultaneously I heard skretch from my mother’s room.
(Side note: Growing up with a Jamaican mother there’s no differentiating an obnoxious laughter or a cry. They both sound the same) I usually rush into her room and examine if she is in fact, okay. To my surprise she wasn’t.
My mother is already an emotional woman so I had to examine more. I felt pain in the room, but a different kind. She kept saying, “No,he can’t be dead. No, he can’t be dead” – then screamed, “They killed my son, they killed Latorrie.” My heart dropped, my heart sunk, my heart broke for the first time.
I walked out of her room to inform my manager. At the time I was not crying but as I spoke the words, “I can’t come in, my brother has died”, after that sentence I lost it. Tears flew down my face, one after the other, after the other.
It was like once I spoke it out loud, it became true. It became written in stone, embedded forever. I knew life wouldn’t be the same. It hasn’t.
Growing up, I knew my family as my mom, my dad, Kerry, Dale and Torrie. They are deep rooted in me, each one of them contributed the to the woman I am today. For me to lose at least one of them, it hit a nerve. I was angry, I became depressed. I’ve felt pain before but never like that.
My brother and I had so much plans, so much dreams. I was supposed to drive him in my Infiniti like he drove me around in his Impala when he first got it. We were going to make things happen because he said, “now you’re older we can actually get the ball a rolling on what we spoke about when you were younger.”
The one thing I admire about my older siblings is, they promise me the world and never fell short of that. So when i heard his words I knew, they were real.
Latorrie always supported me. When I first wanted to take pictures he said, “practice on me.” When I first wanted to start writing he said, “read what you write to me.”
Whenever I wanted to vent he said, “I’m going to let you cry now, but my baby sister isn’t a punk, so I don’t want to see any tears later.” My biggest regret is in the last years of his life, being too busy. When he would call I was at work or I was with my friends. As we got older we subjected to calling on special holidays.
My twenty- first birthday was the last deep conversation we had. The last time I heard his voice so happy and carefree. “My baby sister can finally drink, drinks on me!” he said. I told him I got my license and bought my first car all in the same week. He said, “has mommy seen you drive?” We laughed cause my mother prayed that I didn’t drive like Torrie. I still speed from time to time, but don’t tell nobody.
It has been three years without, Mr. Latorrie K. Beckford. It hasn’t been the best but it taught me to grow. It has taught me how strong I am and how strong I have to be. When he passed I searched everywhere for our intimate collection of family photos. I couldn’t find them until a year later while I was packing. I looked for them everyday, crying when I couldn’t find them. Now that I think of it, it was just his way of saying, “I’m going to let you cry now, but my baby sister isn’t a punk so I don’t want to see any tears later.”
I love you so much Torrie, heaven really gained an angel when they got you.
Like our older brother Dale taught us; we don’t say goodbye, we say later. Just cause we will see each other again.
Junior Editor in Chief Of. Good Gas Magazine – Chloe Ridore
Good Gas Magazine is A Proud Sponsor Of ShoBee’s Natural Divine Global Mentorship Mission
Let’s Put a Smile on A Homeless Family Face This Holiday Season.We Are Changing Lives By Feeding The Homeless This Holiday. In Memory Of My Son Latorrie Who was killed By A Serial Killer
Please open up your hearts no matter how small