My son was murdered 9 years ago today. He would have been 26 this year.
I write a letter to my son every year, and today I am sharing that letter. It is more important than ever that we are standing up and speaking our truth.
Dear Jordan,
With the high profile trials in the news recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the trial of your killer. If you were still with us, I’m sure you would have had a lot to say about the Rittenhouse verdict, and the trial of the men who killed Ahmaud Arbery.
Your killer’s trial was one of the hardest moments of my life. In fact, it took two trials to get some measure of justice and the conviction our family wanted – first-degree murder.
I will never forget how at the end of the first trial – the judge read the verdicts for each of the charges: guilty, guilty, guilty, except for last one – the first-degree murder charge. The judge declared a mistrial.
How? What? Why? I was stunned and confused. I left the courtroom to a sea of cameras.
Reporters were asking: “Are you happy that you’ve received justice for your son… Can you rest now?” But, I knew justice had not been served.
I felt deep feelings of shock and devastation. And although I did not know it at the time, I also felt resilience. I felt called to stand up, speak out, and tell your story.
Right there, I made a promise to you Jordan. And to my family, and our community. I was not done fighting for justice. I would do everything in my power to keep our community safe, healthy, and to keep what happened to our family from happening to anyone else’s.
Every decision I’ve made since that day has been with the same intention: to follow through on that promise to you.
Jordan, I hope my decisions and actions for the last nine years have made you proud, and that you know your legacy is making a difference. I’ll always be your mother. I’ll always love you.
-- Your mom, Lucy
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Today is my son Jordan's 29th birthday. Parents who have lost children know the heartbreak that comes with each passing birthday.
I find that writing my son letters keeps me hopeful and reminds me of the power in turning my pain into purpose.👇 (1/x)
Dear Jordan,
For seventeen years, your birthday was always something we loved to plan. Lighting up your birthday candles was always a warm and festive way to wrap up the holiday season. (2/x)
I wanted to watch you grow old, Jordan. I wanted to watch you take your next steps as you crossed into adulthood. I wanted to see you chase your dreams, start a family of your own, and bring home stories of all the ways you dreamt of changing the world for the better. (3/x)
Today was supposed to be Jordan’s 27th birthday. As much joy the memory of his birth brings me, it nonetheless is a challenging day of the year.
Since his murder, I’ve found writing him letters still gives me a way to celebrate my special boy:
Dear Jordan,
You would have turned 27 today. I probably would have joked with you that you’re officially in your “late twenties” now. I say ‘would’ because almost ten years ago, you were stolen from me.
I didn’t get to hug and kiss you goodbye. I didn’t get a moment’s notice to anticipate the wave of grief and anger I would feel. You were murdered by a man with a gun who made an impulsive decision to shoot at you and your friends for no good reason.
Today is my son Jordan's 26th birthday. This is one of the hardest days of the year.
This year, I wrote Jordan a letter:
Happy birthday, Jordan. How I wish you were still here to celebrate with us. I know you are with me, watching over me every day.. (1/x)
...but I would give anything just to hug you and hear your voice once more.
I often think about where we would be and what we would be doing if you hadn’t been taken from us far too soon — before you even entered adulthood. (2/x)
What I’m left with are your memories and imaginations of what could be.
You were just 85 days short of your 18th birthday – right on the verge of finally getting the right to vote. I know you understood how sacred that right was. (3/x)
Today marks 8 years since my son Jordan was stolen from me.
Every year, I write a letter to my son. Read below - and remember there are still thousands of families in this country being torn apart every single day from gun violence.
To Jordan:
I miss you. It’s been eight years since I got to hug and kiss you.
I had no way to know that the last time I hugged you would be the last time I embraced you in this life.
You didn’t deserve to die that way, but our laws failed you, failed us and countless families like ours. I know the man who killed you was not raised the way I raised you.
But I decided not to be silent — to challenge the laws that failed us.
This is not an easy Mother's Day. These are two pictures of two mothers who had their sons #JordanDavis and #AhmaudArbery ripped away suddenly because of gun violence.
(1/x)
You know my story. You know my son was killed in 2012 by a man who shot 10 rounds at him because he and his friends were playing music in their car. A man unloaded a clip on my son and took his life. So as you can imagine, Mother’s Day is not a normal day for me.
(2/x)
This week has been an extraordinary time for our gun safety movement here in Georgia and nationwide, with extra attention on the vicious murder of Ahmaud Arbery in Brunswick, GA. Attention that was only paid because a viral video of the shooting was released.
Today is my son Jordan’s 25th birthday. I often think about what I would say to him if he were still here with us.
This year, I wanted to share a message that I wrote to Jordan on what would have been his 25th birthday.
Dear Jordan,
Eight years ago, you were stolen from me. The last conversation we had seemed so normal. You told me how much you had enjoyed Thanksgiving, and that you loved being able to see your friends.
I had no idea that would be the last time I heard your voice.
I never got to kiss you goodbye. I never got to give you one final hug. We never celebrated your 18th or 21st birthday because you were stolen from me at just 17 years old.
Today would have been your 25th - and I still miss you every single day.