“Is he okay? He must be okay. Nobody said anything so he must be okay. Find out how he doing and let me know.”
I was irritated that she didn't have any answers for my questions but when I hung up with Quicie I went back my cheery mode I’d had before because I just knew that Wic was okay. After all it was Wic, my little cousin who was the sweetest ever. I was more than optimistic because not once had I ever heard of him getting in major trouble, last I knew that he was doing well at Kentucky state and progressing in life so I never worried about him, not even after having heard he’d been shot.
I was still in good spirits having had just came back from hearing Tony Gaskins speak and I felt good like I could take over the world after the speech I’d heard. Even when Quicie called back I was good, I had my mouth full of food my cousin Nysa had brought back from a birthday party and I was even more happy that she thought about me, and that I didn't have to make a late night trip to In-N-Out. By then I was already waiting to hear Quicie say what I already knew, which was that Wic was okay. It was Wic…nothing could be wrong with Wic…Right?
“He gone itty.” Quicie said. And I lost my breath and my appetite with a mouth full of food.
“Qucie not Wic. Quicie?” I was waiting for her to tell me something else…that he was okay, what I had expected and just knew I would hear.
“Qucie not Wic! Quicieee Qucieee not Wic!” I said the same three words over and over as the tears started flooding down, then I couldn't control breathe, she had taking my air.
I rushed out of the side door, I was grasping for air and I needed air.
I made it down the steps before dropping to my knees. “Quicie not WIc.” I repeated over and over hoping she would change what she said but she didn’t.
“Yes itty, its Wic.”
Not Wic. Not Wic. I could deal and expected that he just got shot and that he could recover, that I would see him at the family reunion or Thanksgiving or even on FaceTime. That he would be okay, but not he was “gone.” No, but the real truth is that he wasn't or isn't gone as Kecie said in her poem, “knowing Wic, he never left” because in our memories, joys, cries, and our souls you’re still here! R.I.P Wali “Wic” Clanton. November 1, 1992 - June 13, 2015
Wic, we all miss you so much. I was talking to Grandma earlier and she was saying how it still doesn't feel real after 3 months. It doesn’t, and even now I’m not worried about you because I know Uncle Ali got you, and that I’ll see you again one day in the sky after I’ve grown old and gray, and left a mark on the world that can’t be erase… Until then rest easy baby boy.
