Nathanial Arrington Crawford killed himself a few weeks back. Most of y’all have no idea who he was or is, really. I know I don’t.
I was talking with a dear friend and fellow teacher about it and neither of us was shocked by the happening. Saddened, hurt, or otherwise unsure of what to do but not shocked. We knew him as he was breaking out of the blocks with forward the only way and watched from a too close distance as humanity undid itself on him.
Nate was an always on the move young man with an enthusiastic expectation that none of us was at our potential and there was really nothing that should stop ourselves from achieving. The thing is, his electric smile was the only part he cared for most anyone to see. I caught a real glimpse of the turbulence beneath one brief moment at his mother’s wake. It was a fierce hot day and I had some manner of work beforehand but I made sure to show up in a suit and maybe a quick polish on my shoes. He was a man with impeccable style and it would be rude otherwise. We hugged and spoke for a minute. That was most of it but for when I said something stupid.
“She looks at peace, like she passed that way.”
“No, no.” He shook head and repeating, as if he had seen and borne what no one needs to.
I moved the talk as quick as I could and he followed. There was no reason to stay there, no good could come of it.
We hugged again and I went on my way and let him be with what remained of his family.
Nate was in a hell that he didn’t create but still tied on his shoes and put some work in toward his dreams. Due to our grave stupidity, “young Black man” came before “Nathanial” in all but his circle and so he had the joy of navigating real personal trauma while confronting obstacles, some of his own doing, that make normal difficult and excellent, exceptional. He only accepted exceptional from himself.
He would send me a message at a random hour. I probably would do likewise. On at least one occasion, I needed the lift. I knew that he knew I was there. One makes it through such storms on his own but it is nice to catch a leeward spot now and again. I hope I provided decent shelter for a time.
Turbulence is energy breaking from its control. Not man, nor god can create the language to define it. The closest we have here is the roils of the river twisting within the other. There is a siren’s call to let that chaos take control and a need to make one real decision. He answered. The when’s and how’s and why’s don’t matter. It happened.
The thing is, even a fire is a living thing and the furnace of his drive had burned so hot that those embers carry on. To all those that knew him, he is setting pace, reminding us that we got some miles to do. He’s out front, turned backwards to face us, beautiful hard coal skin, geometric features and a joyful smile.
“This is the easy part. Come on.” He waves us forward.
-Daniel R. Wallace March, 2020
