Stolen lights darken memorial, but hope shines on

Terrez McCleary had some uncharacteristically choice words for whoever stole the solar lanterns from the memorial garden at the corner of 51st Street and Woodland Avenue, a space built by mothers of homicide victims to honor Philadelphians lost to gun violence. And they deserve every single one.

But as I watched the video McCleary posted on Facebook Wednesday night following the painful moment she discovered the theft, one word echoed in my mind: Why?

I’m not naive. Neither are the women who have experienced one of the worst losses imaginable. Bad things happen. In fact, right now bad things are happening way too often, so some might even say that in the grand scheme of things, what’s a few lights?

But that’s the point. At a time when cruelty is seeping into our everyday lives, often perpetrated by people with too much power and too little humanity, why must we add to each other’s suffering? Why target a place meant to heal? Why deepen the pain for women already grieving so much loss? Why?

“This is something we did to honor our loved ones lost to gun violence in Philadelphia, and this is what they thought of us,” McCleary can be heard saying in the video that’s been viewed hundreds of times.

I’ve chronicled the mothers’ yearslong dream of a memorial garden. When I visited the site a few days before their November grand opening, it was impossible not to get emotional at what they had created. They had cleaned up a rectangular patch of donated land. They had dug the holes for the trees, and they had handwritten thousands of names of sons and daughters in permanent marker onto river rocks.

The Moms Bonded By Grief Botanical Garden of Healing was quite literally built with the women’s blood, sweat, and tears.

In the haze of grief and anguish, it is no small miracle these women not only found the strength to go on, but to grow a fellowship that bloomed into an oasis in Southwest Philadelphia.

Visitors to the garden are greeted by a plaque that reads: “We remember them.” A brick pathway leads to a handful of trees surrounded by the memorial rocks. Before they were swiped, four solar lanterns illuminated wooden benches meant for comfort and contemplation.

As far as McCleary knows, no one witnessed the theft, and she didn’t bother reporting it to an already overwhelmed police department. Still, she worries thieves will continue to target a garden that should be off-limits.

While talking to McCleary this week, I couldn’t help but recall a conversation I previously had with another mother at the garden.

Deemika Brown’s 26-year-old son, Terrell Arnold Jr., was shot and killed on Sept. 29, 2020. The day we spoke, she held a photo of him while she recalled the ebbs and flows of her own grief after Arnold — a father of three — was killed not far from his West Philadelphia home.

Brown found a lifeline in the other mothers of homicide victims, she told me. And then, she found a sanctuary at the garden.

“We really took something dark and put a light on it,” Brown said.

Like so many of us, I’m feeling my way through these dark days, trying my best to counter a world of growing chaos and confusion with care and compassion.

And maybe because of that, I’ve found that kindness — committing it, witnessing it, rooting for it — means more right now than ever.

I wasn’t surprised when even in the heat of the moment, McCleary vowed she’d replace the lights purchased for about $50 on Amazon.

“I just want them to know that they did not discourage us,” she said. “We will not let them discourage us or dishonor our children.”

And, OK, maybe this part is naive. But I still hope whoever took the lights might have a change of heart and return them. Or that others might step in with a little help and encouragement to remind these mothers, and in the process, all of us, there are far more people eager to bring light into the darkness than those who seek to snuff it out.