Guy Alford III
“Guy you were an amazing person, like a big brother to me. When I had no one to bond with, you were always there. I always wanted you around.”
Unable to Breathe
by April Roby - Mother of Guy Alford III
How do you put into words not being able to breathe? It’s been 1,466 days since I’ve been able to hug, touch, or even kiss my son. 1,466 days since I’ve been able to breathe. It has been 1,466 days since I got the call from the coroner, “…Sorry, to inform you, but your son Guy has been killed.” At that moment I stopped breathing and have been trying to catch my breath ever since.
There are many adjectives to describe Guy; strong, smart, handsome, compassionate, driven, exciting, calm, generous, determined, focused, to name a few. But most identifying is that Guy Alford was a 20-year-old young black man, whose life suddenly came to an end due to gun violence.
I remember thinking, ‘How does one call the father of your child and tell him that he’s lost his son?’
Guy’s father and I went to great lengths to teach our son that his actions has consequences, to love others as he loves himself, and we taught him to always help those that looked up to him. Because of these values, no matter where I travel, when I talk to people that knew him, I learn each time that he has touched many lives and made a difference.
“To my wonderful student, Guy. Nelson Mandela once said, “as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” Thank you so much for shining brightly in your brief yet meaningful life. I know you are with the Lord now shining brightly like you did for us all.” – Elementary School Principal
There were many young men with whom he played sports, that I encountered that had nothing but great things to say about Guy. A young man wrote,
“Guy you were an amazing person, like a big brother to me. When I had no one to bond with, you were always there. I always wanted you around.”
These conversations that I’ve had since his death with his friends and acquaintances has shown me that those who knew Guy, were able to see the young man that I and his father raised him to be.
Sometimes when I’m walking or driving, I see someone that resembles Guy, and I think for just a millisecond that could be my baby, but then I realize it’s just a wishful dream. My baby is gone at the hands of a stranger. Imagine what that feels like. Moments of joy are ripped away as my stomach drops every time I experience a modicum of happiness, because I remember I don’t have “my baby Guy Guy”, that’s what I called him, “my baby Guy Guy.”
“he was a leader, a role model and all around stand-up young man, I enjoyed every moment we had together. We always talked about stuff outside of and in school. I called you “old man” because of your maturity. We will never forget the mark you left with us.”
— Coach, Inglewood Jets
Whenever I think about my future, it stops right at the grave because I am a childless mother.
Whenever I celebrate a family member or friend’s child’s milestones, I remember, I am a childless mother.
Do you know what it means to be a childless mother? Your child is gone. It means you will never have another one. It means you will never hear “come on, Mom” again in that annoyed yet loving tone. Why? Because I am a childless mother. It means I will never have a daughter in law. It means I will never hear grandchildren playing in my yard. Why? Because I am a childless mother.
I will never have another chance to say, “I love you; son and I am so proud of you.” So, you see I can never breathe again. Why? Because I am a childless mother.
Mom