They Die Yung Where I’m From: My Eulogy for Boo Boo

“They say the rich die young where I’m from
The good die young where I’m from
They say the youngins turn guns where I’m from
Runnin’ around drums where I’m from
Done picture me this way
I see the hate on their face
And na na na na na
Gon’ grind fo’ betta days, to try to make it through the day
And na na na na na
Nigga, I made my own way
I came a long long way
I came a long long way
They say the rich die young where I’m from
The good die young where I’m from
The good die young where I’m from”          -Yo Gotti, Good Die Young


I was sitting in my living room watching TV with my wife while scrolling on Facebook at the same time. I see a Facebook Live video on one of the homie’s pages. Its raining. In the background and in their eyes. Another one of our friends has died. I watch as the homies share their disbelief and grief. And it hits me too.

“Damn! Another one. Shit man! This has to stop!” These are my immediate thoughts. I pause the show we were watching and tell my wife the news with disbelief in my heart. I continue watching my friends share their frustrations and reactions to this tragedy. My heart continues to break more and more as I watch and try to make sense of all.

In my 35 years of living, I’ve seen too many of my homies die. I was 13 years old when I first witnessed a friend get shot and hit the ground, lifeless. I’ve had friends leave with homies for a night of fun only for the night end up darker than the sky could ever be. I’ve had friends fight for their lives because of illness, and lose the battle. Shoot outs and street fights has taken too many lives where I’m from.

But this one is different.

This one hurt differently.

We didn’t see this one coming.

Tears well in my eyes as I write this…

Growing up where I’m from we are taught you have to be tough. Showing emotions is a sign of weakness that might get you smashed on. Real niggas don’t cry. Until we have to put one of our own in the ground. We put on for so many because we have to.

“Daddy ain’t around and Mama is counting on us…”

“Brothers and sisters need a man to look up to…”

“Little homies need to see what a real man looks like…”

“Can’t let these fools see me weak, they might try to pull my card…”

But on the inside…

“Damn, I’m stressed. Need to get this bread, man!”

“Baby mama getting on my fuckin nerves, man…”

“Can’t even afford to buy my kids nothing…Shit!”

“Man, fuck it!”

It’s easy for people on the outside of the hood to judge and criticize how we live. It’s not a war zone where they live, and I’m not just talking about gun violence.

War on drugs is on us

War on poverty is on us

War on substandard housing is on us

War on substandard education is on us

War on unemployment is on us

And this war has damaged is more ways than the eye can see.

But like our ancestors who had to endure slavery, we still sing songs in the midst of oppression and outsiders think we’re happy. We’re just trying to be strong!

But it breaks us. One heavy load at a time. Until…

That’s why this one is different.

I’ve struggled to put it into words because words felt inadequate. So much going on in my mind. So much I want to say to my homies, to the family, to the whole hood.

After we laid my brother in the ground, my homegirl asked me, “Why didn’t you preach the funeral?”

“What would I have said?”, I thought. “They didn’t ask me.”, I replied.

I thought about how I would’ve eulogized my homie. What could I say to bring peace and comfort to the family? What could I have declared that would have given understanding to so many who may be confused by our brother’s departure from this life?

Perhaps I would’ve read Matthew 5:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
For they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
For they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
For they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

Perhaps I would have reminded them that

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
    and saves the crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

And that all of their tears are precious to God:

You number my wanderings;
Put my tears into Your bottle;
Are they not in Your book?
When I cry out to You,
Then my enemies will turn back;
This I know, because God is for me (Psalm 56:8-9)

I would let my homies know that God cares for them, too. That salvation is not just for the by and by but for right now, in every one of our situations, in all of our frustrations, and that when we are weak and vulnerable, God is strong IN US AND FOR US! Yes, it is true that God will not put more on us than we can bear but sometimes the weight of the world will and can crush us but God can deliver us from it all!

They say the good die young were I’m from.

My homie was a good man, a good father, a good son, and a good friend. In his death he taught us that sometimes a different type of good also dies young. He taught us that we can be givers even after we have nothing left to give. He’s teaching us that we can love each other deeper, care about each other more passionately, and come together more often.

To my Tru Kats, I love you. I am here for you. Until the casket drops…

Image may contain: 8 people, people smiling, people standing, tree, outdoor and nature

Rest Eternally Cadarrius “Yung Money” Davis aka Boo Boo! TKE 4 Eva.

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