(BALTIMORE – March 15, 2025) – On March 16, 1985, my favorite girl got her wings. Her name was Lillie Juanita Glover—the woman who gave me life on a Sunday around noon at Provident Hospital in 1965, just seven days before her own birthday on July 4th. I was in my second year of college when she passed. At the time, I had just embarked on what would become a 13-year undergraduate journey at the esteemed Morehouse College—an experience far beyond my financial means. Yet, thanks to her sacrifices, I was blessed to walk the campus of giants for three profound semesters. Her commitment to my education is a debt I honor through academic excellence. This is also why both of my children—Asaan and N’yinde Amaari—have three A’s in their names, serving as a constant reminder to take their education seriously.
Losing her was devastating. At 20 years old, my world turned upside down. I didn’t know up from down and made many self-medicating choices in an attempt to regain my footing. It took time, but counseling and therapy proved invaluable.
You see, I grew up in my family’s funeral home business, where consoling bereaved families was our duty. However, when death strikes home, the question becomes: to whom do you turn? No one is ever truly prepared for that moment—it comes for us all…