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Grief ran through every person of every filled chair and every filled row of the True Bethel Baptist Church. Tears dripped down the cheeks of most in every filled chair of every filled row. Kleenex boxes emptied. The people made their love for Briana, G’shawn, and Cianna clear. The fact is grief has no borders. Grief crosses all cultures, races, religions, ethnicities, and socio-economic status.

The family and friends of these three young people who died in the Shirley Avenue house fire came together in a powerful and spiritual way the likes I have never seen in person. I observed a hurting family and witnessed the early stages of the healing process. I saw soulfulness, peacefulness, loveliness, spirituality, bonding, and the will of people rich with empathy. There was hand-clapping, words of kindness, and song. For me personally, this was eye-opening and gut-wrenching. I had not been to a funeral at this church before. It was heartfelt in a time of darkness.

I am a white, Jewish male who lives in the suburbs. Professionally as an attorney, I represent many members of the African American community. But seeing with my own eyes and listening with my own ears to the words offered by friends, relatives, and the Bishop Darius Pridgen, was unique, enlightening and engaging.

Bishop Pridgen preached and the congregation responded with the sound of approval. He implored the people not to question the cause of this tragedy without knowing the facts, not to speak without the facts, not to judge in hindsight, and not to blame those undeserving of blame. Rather, this type of tragedy is God’s choice because these are his children. It is out of your hands. But it still hurts.

Not that I would have thought otherwise, but it is clear love and grief hath no borders. As Bishop Pridgen said, “you never have to meet a baby for your heart to break.” It just breaks. He spoke about Job. Job was prosperous, respected, and loving. Then he lost everything. But it was the loss of his children that truly broke him. Take my clothes, my job, my house – but don’t mess with my babies. One cannot fathom sitting in the front row of a church staring at the caskets of your children. The very thought shakes you to the core.

That is what Shawniqua and her family did today. That is what the congregation at True Bethel did today. They buried two of their children and their sister. Gut-wrenching. It reminded me that we share a common bond: the love for our children.

The tears and sorrow were too much to watch. But without question, the African American community was there to lift them up and hold them tight while Shawniqua, her family, and friends navigate a path to a more peaceful place.

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