This grieving is hella late...
Remembering Dre and how he inspired me to be an artist.
He’s been gone nearly 14 years and I don’t think I’ve truly mourned his death. A beautiful soul that passed away from a heart attack at 30 years old. I remember the day I found out. I had gone home to Ferguson to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Dre and I had just talked a few days earlier. I had plans to spend time with my family and visit my two best friends, Dre being one of the two. My husband I were planning to go out that day and before we left my parent’s house, I get a Facebook message from someone I didn’t recognize. Dre’s aunt reached out to me and told me he had recently passed, possibly in his sleep. I couldn’t believe it and part of me couldn’t accept it. I told my husband, my mom and my other best friend…then carried one with my day because I wasn’t ready to think about it. I wanted to block it out my mind until I got back to Michigan and ugly cry alone…but I couldn’t. I went back to St. Louis a week later for the funeral. Sitting amongst his family and his homies that he knew since childhood was hard. That’s when it hit me. Damn he’s really gone.
What I loved the most about him was how creative he was, a deep thinker and incredibly funny. Dre enjoyed reading, drawing, poetry, music and a rapper from University City (in St. Louis we say U City). When he was able to, he would do rap battles and make mix tapes. Dre was a dreamer and all he wanted to do was make it big and get out the hood, but life kept knocking him down. He tells me “I’m gonna make it out the hood someday. Watch.” I wanted that for him so bad. To see his rap career take off and be another successful rapper that represents St. Louis. Unfortunately, jail and drugs became his norm and a reality that he couldn’t run away from. But no matter what he faced, he still tried. Jail, rehab, depression and loneliness plagued his spirit, but he kept going. When I left for the Air Force in 2003, I still supported him because I loved and believed in him.
Dre knew that I aspired to be an artist and we talked about our artistic interests all the time. Since I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was more fascinated with hearing about everything he was doing. I never tired of listening to his poetry and his raps. I briefly picked up poetry as a teen. I couldn’t focus on it when I was active duty like I wanted to and that bothered me. So, I put my poetry down and didn’t pick it up again until 2011. Marriage and motherhood became my priority and I found myself being pulled further away from the one thing that gave me peace and a mental escape. Dre respected that and didn’t want to talk to me as much once I had gotten married in 2006. I appreciated that but I was having a hard time accepting this space he created, from the one man that knows me better than my husband and father. He kept me balanced and hopeful about becoming an artist someday. I spent the next several years living vicariously through his artistic life while I settled into mine.
It’s 2024 and I’m scratching the surface of being a painter and microfiction writer. It’s the first time in nearly 13 years where I come alive again with my writing. I spent years journaling and blogging off and on since 2011. This time around I know I want to take it more seriously. My mind is clearer and the noise from my imposter syndrome is just above a whisper. But after bringing up Dre in recent conversations to my friends, I realized that I had been suppressing those thoughts and feelings about him for a long time. Through the depression, my life carried on and I pushed them to the furthest parts of my mind. Dre and I were fucking depressed together back in the day and leaned on each other through the rough shit. I felt low because I knew I wouldn’t find another person, especially a man, that would allow me to be 100% vulnerable and understanding in every way. He took shit to his grave about me! I denied myself to take the time to grieve and reflect on the impact he has on my life. Any thought of him would be a soft memory that I allowed to gently pass through my mind. After having in depth conversations with new friends, one of them reminds me so much about him. We created this safe space for each other where we can be vulnerable. I need this space. This triggered the memories and immediately the tears started to fall. I was overwhelmed with the wave of emotions that crashed down so quickly.
Dre has been on my mind so much since I’ve been actively writing. I believe his presence is with me and guiding me through every moment of it. I’m thinking of him with each one that I create. Something raw, real and relatable. After each one that’s completed, I can hear his voice telling me “Damn that’s hard! I like that shit.” My heart starts to flutter.
Thank you, my Love for guiding me on this journey. I couldn’t have done this without you.
Lex loves you forever.
Depression, anxiety, grief…life…these things can all get in the way of our creativity. Or, just maybe, they are the lived experiences we need in order to create in the first place. I’m sorry for your loss, it isn’t easy to live life without the ones who truly know us! Thanks for sharing such depth of heart with us, it’s an honor to read your words.
I’m not crying, you’re crying 😩😩😩😂🥹 ok I am crying. I don’t know why but I read this article backwards and then foreword. So much to feel. I appreciate you for keeping it so real.
I’m glad you found your way back to the heart of your ART and honour the memories of your Muse.
I’m inspired and encouraged.