By Carol Y. Joiner
I was a young mother at 20 when I had my son, Kevin Lamarr Joiner. He had these long fingers and jet-black shiny hair. From the start Kevin was a busy little guy, and he was a charmer. He grew into a skinny little dark-skinned kid with deep eyes, curly hair and a smile you couldn’t say no to.
I was a single mother, and I just wanted the best for my son. I loved fashion, and I dressed Kevin in Brooks Brothers and Eton short sets. I can picture him in black with white knee socks and shorts. He was always so neat his older cousins sometimes picked on him a bit, calling him “pretty boy.”
Kevin was a child model. He would pose for photos and walk the runway in fashion shows. Kevin also did theater at Karamu House. Once, he was the pizza boy in one of Floyd Swoope’s plays. I always kept him busy with things that would challenge him. He played football for the Bulldogs, the Hough neighborhood team. Kevin also played on the basketball team at St. Thomas Aquinas when he was in 7th grade, running around the court with his little skinny self.
From a young age, Kevin was a magnet who could draw people to him. In daycare, he was chosen as king for the “king and queen” contest. He had a laugh and a kindred spirit and so many friends. The girls loved him too, but he never brought a girl home to me because he knew I would ask for everything but her DNA.
Kevin had a sleeping disorder. Signs of it started when he was younger, but it wasn’t until he was about 15 that we found out it was called narcolepsy. It was hard for him because he would fall asleep just about anywhere: in his classroom, on the couch, and even while driving a car. He had medicine to control it, but he did not like taking it.
Kevin struggled in school due to narcolepsy, but he was determined to graduate — and he did. After graduating from high school, Kevin went on to a carpentry program at Max Hayes. It was frustrating for Kevin that he wasn’t able to fully finish the program in high school. It was unsafe because of the narcolepsy. But he didn’t let that stop him. He went on to work with his father, who was an entrepreneur and had clothing stores and a second-hand store.
One day, I remember I was headed to my nail salon to work. I spotted the big green Cadillac his Uncle Junior had given him. He was sound asleep at the stop sign. I got out of my car and was banging on the window. He jumped. I was yelling, “Boy, go home.”
Kevin was also a protector to his little sister. He was 23 and she was 12, but he would take her to the park or take her roller skating. Kevin left behind two sons and a daughter and grandsons. When I look at my grandchildren, each one of them has something that reminds me instantly of their father. When I see his children, I see my son. One of his sons is a rapper, and he started a football team for neighborhood kids.
In 2002, Kevin was killed by a bullet meant for someone else. He was standing there at a cookout and a girl was trying to shoot another guy. The bullet went through that guy’s shoulder and into my son’s heart. It wasn’t for him. The lady who caused his death was never convicted. It’s hard to live constantly with the thought that his murderer held the gun but still is free. Still, I could never hate her. Even though justice was not served, with hate in my heart I couldn’t have peace.
What gives me joy is to remember that happy baby, little boy, skinny teenager and young adult who did not deserve to be robbed of his life for a senseless shooting. I will forever grieve the loss of my son, but I won’t be sad because he would want me to live, and not die mourning him.
May God continue to give me the peace I have to live and laugh and love.
Photos by Michael Indriolo
