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Dear Tamir Rice, Your Life Really DID Matter.

Dear Tamir,

You were just 18 months older than my son, Noah.

He has the same brilliant light in his eyes that I see in yours; the kind with all the promise and energy and positivity that only a young boy’s eyes can contain.

His easy, inviting smile (like your own) reflects a simple sweetness and joy, which is the way it’s supposed to be when you’re 12.

I like to think that you two would have gotten along great. He’s a sweet, silly, playful kid with a deep compassion for people and a warmth and wisdom far greater than his years.

He loves to hang out at the park too; to play superheroes and Star Wars and to run around pretending that he’s shooting at stormtroopers and bad guys.

I can see you both playing at the park together.

I can imagine you both there doing what sweet, silly, playful boys do.

What I can’t at all imagine, is losing my son they way your family lost you.

You didn’t do anything wrong that day. You were just being 12. That was what you were supposed to do.

12-year old boys should be able to be 12-year old boys in the park or at the mall or in their yards, no matter what color they are.

They should be able to run and play and pretend and do all manner of 12-year old boy things without worrying that they will never get to be 13.

And though it may not seem like it, your life did matter, Tamir.

It did and it still does.

Your life was worth more than the treatment you received and the care you did not in your final moments.

It was worth more the words of those who later tried to blame your 12-year oldness.

It was worth far more than the legal justice system now says it was.

And most of all it was far more beautiful and good and full of life than a few grainy seconds of horrible video, yet I will remember those seconds too because they are important. They are the ones that took you too soon and without dignity, and the ones that tried to say that your life mattered less.

I will not forget you and your smile, Tamir.

As my boy grows and becomes a man, as he hopefully gets to be 13 and 25 and 38, I’m going to remember that you should be here too, just 18 months older than him; that every birthday and milestone and celebration and sunset he has, you should also be having with your family.

I’m going to remember that your life was as big to them as my son’s is to me, that your loss leaves as massive a crater as his would leave in its absence, and that you deserve to be grieved as fully as I would grieve him.

And I’m going to keep speaking out and looking out for all boys and girls who may feel like or be treated like they matter less, simply because of the color of their skin.

Tamir, your life truly matters.

Your death matters.

You, matter.

 

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