My name is Michael, and next week will be my birthday. I am excited and happy to be turning 31 years old soon. Life has been difficult, but I am grateful for the pains, difficulties, and the beautiful coincidences that have changed my life.
It has been so long, but I still remember everything as if it were yesterday. It was a beautiful day filled with hope and excitement. It was my first day of high school in New York City, and the feeling of making new friends and learning new things made me so excited. I was an exchange student and was 15 years old at the time.
My mom and I had just moved from Detroit, Michigan to New York City after the death of Richard.
Richard was my older brother. He was 5 years older than me and was a very outgoing and loving person. He loved making friends and was not into the school lifestyle. Instead, he preferred working, partying, making music, and hanging out with friends.
He loved rap music and was a very good rapper.
Richard had always been a hard worker. After long days at the McDonald's in Detroit, he would hustle over to the nightclub to perform, hoping to make some extra cash to support my mom. It wasn't easy, but Richard was determined to provide and make my mom happy.
We did not have a father figure in our lives because my dad was not always present due to being in jail for a crime he did not commit.
It's difficult to be black in a white world.
My older brother was like a father figure to me, and his tragic death in a gun violence incident left a lasting impact on my life.
Till this date my mom is still in shock of his death and have not healed from the loss.
One fateful night, Richard was in the midst of his performance when chaos erupted. Shots rang out, and the once lively atmosphere of the club turned into a scene of terror. In the chaos, Richard was tragically caught in the crossfire, and his life was stolen from him far too soon.
The devastating news reached my mom at around 1:16 am that night. The harsh ring of the phone shattered the peaceful silence, and the news pierced our hearts like a dagger. The police informed my mom, and she rushed to the scene, desperate to deny the truth. But the reality was agonizingly clear— Richard was gone.
The pain of losing my brother was too much to bear.
I was there when she had to identify his body. I was there to pick up the pieces of our broken lives, but how do you mend a shattered heart?
I am still traumatized with what I saw, and that was the first time for me to see a lifeless body on the floor.
After the funeral, Mom was lost in a haze of grief. Therapy sessions were a lifeline, but nothing could fill the void that Richard's absence left. She made a decision for us to leave behind the painful reminders of Detroit and find solace in the bustling streets of New York City. We were trying to run from our past instead of dealing with it.
It was like covering the past with a rug, but eventually, the past always caught up with us because we hadn't completely healed from it.
I knew leaving Detroit to New York city would be a fresh start and a chance for us to heal and make new memories.
I promised myself that I would be strong for my mom. I started working weekends at a restaurant, determined to make some money to support and give Mom a chance to breathe. I worked hard, but I also dreamed of something bigger, something that could make Richard proud. I wanted to be successful, to make Mom proud, to honor Richard's memory in every step I took.
As I looked out the window of our new apartment in New York, the city's lights flickering below, I made a vow to myself. I would carve out a path for us, ensure that Richard's legacy lived on, and be the son my mother needed. This was our new beginning, and I was ready to make it count.
So, I was so happy on my first day in highschool.
On the first day of high school, I dressed my best, eager to make a good impression and hopefully make some friends. The truth is, being a black student, I knew it might be a little harder. But I didn't let it bother me too much. I had arrived with a dream and a determination to succeed.
During class, the teacher introduced me as an exchange student from Detroit. The new and unfamiliar faces stared at me, sizing me up, maybe trying to fit me into a box. But then, I noticed Min Kyu. He was an exchange student from Seoul, South Korea. We struck up a conversation and found out we shared a passion for literature and art. It felt great to find someone who understood me.
I couldn't wait to see what else was in store for me at my new high school, and I was excited to see how my friendship with Min Kyu would grow.
Min Kyu was the only Asian in the school, while I was the only black student in my class. My mom tells me that it's okay to be different; there is a unique power within it.