When Elizabeth Ramirez was asked to pick a memento that best described her son, she didn’t reach for the teddy bears or dolls laid in the middle of a healing circle for families who lost loved ones from gun violence. She instead chose a small trophy in the shape of a star.
When her son, Harry Rodriguez, was growing up she asked him what sport he wanted to participate in, and he picked them all, winning many trophies along the way, she told the group gathered Saturday afternoon at Grace Memorial Baptist Church church in North Lawndale.
Football was probably his favorite, though the only activity he wouldn’t try was ballet because of the tights. He dreamed of becoming a coach one day, said Ramirez, 60, of River Grove.
Nearly 14 years since her son was killed, Ramirez said she still remembers the 1:15 a.m. phone call she never expected to receive, telling her that her son was shot by an intruder at his 24th birthday party. She said he protected his cousin and the cousin’s son from the gunfire.
“I drove to the hospital and I was praying for my son to be alive,” she said. “The doctor just standing in the corner of the door looked at me and (shook) her head.”
Ramirez said she then went to his hospital room, trying to shake and wake her son up, chanting “Mommy’s here.”
“He never came home,” she said.
Ramirez joined about 30 others at the church to share stories about their loved ones and learn ways to honor their memory. Crime Survivors for Safety and Justice hosted the event to correspond with National Crime Victims’ Rights Week, an annual commemoration that promotes justice for victims.
Much of the group had family or friends who died from gun violence, or they had personally experienced domestic violence. They displayed photographs of the people they lost, lit candles while reciting their names and prayed.
“It just helps people feel like they’re connected. It brings people together and helps them draw strength from each other, said Ruby Taylor, executive director of Taproots, a nonprofit that provides social and educational outreach.
Taylor, who helped lead the event, said a “no judgment” zone among people who share similar difficult experiences helps them grow stronger together and heal.
Ramirez said she draws comfort from talking with other families. They’re the only ones who truly understand the pain of losing a child to gun violence.
“When we bury our children, everybody is there. But we’re in shock at the beginning,” she said. “After the funeral, after we bury them, we need a family afterwards. Here, we have one another. We’re not gonna get tired of each other.”
She said she remembers her son telling her “I love you too much.” It’s difficult for Ramirez to think that she’ll never see him get married or have kids. Mother’s Day is particularly challenging, she said. But she said she knows “our children will always be with us because of the love we have for them.”
“I saw that little kid from a funny little boy who grew up to a fighting young man with a great heart,” added Rodriguez’s stepfather, Pascual Nunez. “He would love to help everybody that he could. He had a dollar in his pocket, he’d give it to you in a minute even if you didn’t ask for it.”
Marsha Lee shared that her son, Thomas Lee, was shot and killed while walking out of a store in south suburban Harvey in 2008. She described him as funny and smart, joking that she was upset with him becoming a barber after she spent so much money on his education.
It ended up becoming his passion and he planned to open up his own shop one day, said Lee, 68, of Blue Island. She said her son also dreamed of cutting President Barack Obama’s hair and was proud to vote for him in the Democratic primary before he died.
“Tommy had a phrase, and he thought he was the best barber — he cut hair better than anybody else,” she said. “So he would say I’ll give you a $100 haircut for $7.”
Lee encouraged the group to call their elected representatives to support the Homicide Data Transparency Act and Homicide Victims’ Families Rights Act. The Illinois measures would require law enforcement agencies to publicly report homicide data and allow families to request that agencies review unsolved cases after three years, respectively.
She said it’s too common for families to call detectives and receive no answer, or they leave messages and don’t get a call back. It’s very difficult “navigating the system” while coping with the death of a child, and she hopes the legislation could lead to an improvement.
“I could have stayed in bed, balled up in a knot, but I had to do something,” Lee said. “So for me, for my son and his legacy, I have to do something. Faith without works is dead.”
