Remembering Rickey
I am not a person that deals well with issues of death and dying. In my twenty-three years on this earth, I have never attended a funeral service, including that of own my father. Those who are close to me know that I often mask my emotions or am silent when faced with the death of a loved one.
I had not planned on mentioning the death of my friend Rickey Williams. I did not think I could bring myself to it. But I got in this morning at 6:30 am and was met with an image of Rickey on Keith's blog that struck a knife in my heart. Is Rickey really gone? Part of me still does not believe it.
I first met Rickey Williams in June of 2003 in the summer before my senior year of college. I was spending the summer at the University of California-Berkeley on an undergraduate research program . When I got to Berkeley, I was a wide eyed twenty year old completely foreign to the Bay Area. Rickey Williams was the first black gay man I met in the area.
Words cannot describe how Rickey changed my life that summer and in the years I knew him since. He was not only a mentor, but a close friend. My friendships with Tim'm West, David Malebranche, Renol Ratchford, and so many others were all as a result of Rickey introducing me to them. My very first published article was as a result of Rickey taking me to a black gay nightclub in Oakland called "Cabel's Reef." When I was mugged and attacked in San Francisco that summer, just days before my return home to New York, Rickey was one of the first people I turned to for support during that difficult ordeal.
After I left the Bay Area , Rickey and I only saw each other a few times. We'd call each other often, but for some reason we could never manage to get across coasts to visit each other, though we always said we would.
In the months before his death last Monday, I sent him an email to "check up on him". I knew that he was planning on coming to New York City next week for P.O.C.C.'s Pride In The City and I wanted to know if he needed a place to stay, as he did last year when he attended. I never heard back from him.
On Monday, Rickey jumped off of the Golden Gate Bridge. I found out the next day in an email that I received from Marlon Bailey and from Marvin White. I dont know how to mourn Rickey's death. I am so shocked, saddened, and confused I have not been able to write about this, or face it. Marvin K. White's beautiful prose from an email he recently sent out announcing Rickey's passing, expresses much of what I feel but cannot write:
Rickey, I love you and I will never forget you. May you truly rest in peace, and in a place better than this world.
-Frankie
I had not planned on mentioning the death of my friend Rickey Williams. I did not think I could bring myself to it. But I got in this morning at 6:30 am and was met with an image of Rickey on Keith's blog that struck a knife in my heart. Is Rickey really gone? Part of me still does not believe it.
I first met Rickey Williams in June of 2003 in the summer before my senior year of college. I was spending the summer at the University of California-Berkeley on an undergraduate research program . When I got to Berkeley, I was a wide eyed twenty year old completely foreign to the Bay Area. Rickey Williams was the first black gay man I met in the area.
Words cannot describe how Rickey changed my life that summer and in the years I knew him since. He was not only a mentor, but a close friend. My friendships with Tim'm West, David Malebranche, Renol Ratchford, and so many others were all as a result of Rickey introducing me to them. My very first published article was as a result of Rickey taking me to a black gay nightclub in Oakland called "Cabel's Reef." When I was mugged and attacked in San Francisco that summer, just days before my return home to New York, Rickey was one of the first people I turned to for support during that difficult ordeal.
After I left the Bay Area , Rickey and I only saw each other a few times. We'd call each other often, but for some reason we could never manage to get across coasts to visit each other, though we always said we would.
In the months before his death last Monday, I sent him an email to "check up on him". I knew that he was planning on coming to New York City next week for P.O.C.C.'s Pride In The City and I wanted to know if he needed a place to stay, as he did last year when he attended. I never heard back from him.
On Monday, Rickey jumped off of the Golden Gate Bridge. I found out the next day in an email that I received from Marlon Bailey and from Marvin White. I dont know how to mourn Rickey's death. I am so shocked, saddened, and confused I have not been able to write about this, or face it. Marvin K. White's beautiful prose from an email he recently sent out announcing Rickey's passing, expresses much of what I feel but cannot write:
"Friends, It is with a mix of things, great sadness, a heavy heart, bouts of tears, hope, curses thrown up at god, peace misting back down and with disbelief, that I bring the news that Ricky Williams, former African American Program Coordinator at The Stop AIDS Project, my friend and our brother, committed suicide recently. I want to share this news with all of you because it is my hope that his jump from the Golden Gate Bridge into the arms of what he thought was better than what he was living, reminds us to continue to renew our commitment to our mental health and to the mental health of our brothers. It is my hope that we continue to love one another, continue to build and be the bridges to wellness, and begin to add the mighty and the healing "Really, " to our often empty "how are you doing?" question. I can't tell you Ricky's "whys". I can only tell you that my heart is breaking open and words like belonging and acceptance and community and worth and family and good and god and godly and natural and black and lack and gay are fighting to become a poem and not just an obituary. I am hoping that this note ends in a vow that you, who I do and do not know, make to yourself and to this world and to the communities that you are called to serve, that who you are and who we are is right and worth living for and deserves an opportunity to express and receive love-healthy love. If you would like word as more is shared with me or you have a word for me or us please make contact. Truly and Respectfully and Sincerely Yours, Marvin K. White."
Rickey, I love you and I will never forget you. May you truly rest in peace, and in a place better than this world.
-Frankie
It's amazing that I never met Rickey because he has touched so many people that I know. I've talked to a few people who are devastated.
Mourning is so personal and unique to each person for whom we grieve. I have one friend that I curse out every year on his birthday and still talk with as if he's here. Sometimes I'll cry when I can't anticipate what his response might have been, but mostly I just make sure call him a motherfucker on the regular.
I'm mourning.
You will find the appropriate way to mourn your loss. It may or may not be conventional, but make it as unique as Rickey.
Posted by
Rodney |
7/30/2006
I had the pleasure of meeting him at a Think Again reading in Oakland. I found him to be very sweet and interesting. Our conversation was brief but pleasant. I will certainly miss him.
Posted by
Anonymous |
7/30/2006
Frank,
Please accept my deepest condolence for your loss. It is during these times of sorrow and grief that we should cherish those who love us. I urge you to meditate on the meaning of life and all of its blessings. During this time of mourning, please know that my earnest prayers are with you. Keep your head up brotha.
Posted by
Unknown |
7/30/2006
This is very sad and touching to hear. I didn't even know he had passed.
I met Rickey a couple years back while I was working in Oakland. He was so full of life and although I only got to hang out with him a few times through mutual friends he is definitely a memory from my trips out west.
Posted by
C. Baptiste-Williams |
7/31/2006
Frank. We must do something with the connectedness Rickey inspired as we find ways to grapple with the loss. Brave Soul Collective will be featuring a tribute I wrote for Rickey on our site, as well as devoting a monthly topic to psychological wellness and the stigma and shame around it in our community. The loss of Rickey in my life illuminates how much I have taken for granted the people he connected me with who have become my frineds. If you need to talk, please call me. I've been touring, but it's been hard. I've had moments. I'll see you at PITC and I expect a good hugg.
Posted by
About Tim'm |
7/31/2006
He's yet in a wonderful place watching over you, Dearest for Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
Peace be still...
He's Still in your heart though he is living forever.
Namaste'
E. Seleithia Woods
Posted by
Anonymous |
7/31/2006
That was a beautiful tribute to your friend. I'm sure he's smiling down at you as we speak...
Posted by
LoLo B |
7/31/2006
I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. Hopefully his life and his death will be a lesson to others who knew him.
Just my thoughts
Posted by
WiseYoungMan |
8/01/2006
i am sorry to hear of your loss...my condolences to you man...
Posted by
AC |
8/01/2006
i saw him breifly at last year black gay research summit and i must say he was full of life and a pleasant person from what i saw.
Posted by
Andre J. Allen II |
8/01/2006
No person committing suicide will ever be in peace. That is just fact.
Posted by
Anonymous |
8/05/2006
Rickey's passing reminds that must not only take good care of ourselves but we must "check-in" with each other. We need to be good listeners and good friends.
I got to attend Rickey's memorial on Ocean Beach last week and it was as beautiful as he would have wanted. Every time I watch the sunset on the ocean, I will be reminded of his amazing spirit.
Peaceness...
Posted by
in2jazz |
8/06/2006
Continue his life through sharing and never forgetting who he was.
He was loved and still is.
Posted by
Keisha Kornbread |
8/21/2006