When I started my college
internship at CVAC in 2002, the second case I opened was with the mother of a
homicide victim. I still remember the victim's name, but I never saw his face. Since then, I have worked with hundreds of
families of homicide victims. I have seen some of the faces on t-shirts their
families wear or on funeral programs families bring to our
office, but it’s always in passing. I know the names. I see them over and over
in case notes and in the list of names I assemble for our annual homicide
victims’ vigil. I don’t know their faces.
Sometimes the stars align. Sometimes God smiles on us.
Sometimes karma brings us good things. Sometimes there are coincidences that
turn out for the best. However you want to attribute it, you know what I mean.
And so it went with CVAC’s National Crime Victims’ Rights Week event this year.
Victims’ Rights Week was coming up. An artist was looking for pictures of young victims of gun violence. A gallery just a couple blocks from the CVAC office gives space to artists free of charge. It turns out that the
artist’s schedule, the gallery’s availability, and Victims’ Rights Week all
coincided, so we scheduled the exhibit and an opening reception.
For the “Faces Project,” Christine Ilewski paints watercolor
portraits of young victims of gun violence, donates the original to the family,
and collages reproductions of the portraits onto vintage handkerchiefs. These images make up a traveling exhibit with a mission to raise awareness of the toll gun violence takes on American youth. So, with the help of coworkers and interns, I
narrowed down our clients according to the artist’s guidelines (victims under 20
years of age and killed by a gun) and sent them an invitation to participate
along with an envelope for them to return the release form and a photograph of
their loved one.
A few responses arrived in the mail. I did not open them. I
told myself it was just to keep them from getting lost. If I’m being honest
with myself, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the faces. Finally, one showed up with a handwritten note on the
outside of the envelope that read “Last picture he took! Thank you.” My
curiosity got the best of me and I opened the envelope. Seeing the picture
nearly brought me to tears (which my coworkers could tell you is a rare occurrence).
Then one arrived with a familiar return address, so I opened that one, too.
Same result. Finally, I decided to open the rest. I found not only pictures, but
also notes about the victims. Even in the midst of their grief, the families found happiness in this project and in telling their loved one's story.
Then it hit me, the tears I was holding back were
not tears of sadness. Instead, I was in awe of how much this project meant to people and
of the very small part that I could play in making it happen. I was in awe of how
these families let us into their lives at the worst time and how much trust
they place in us. Rather than crushing me under their weight, the faces buoyed my spirit.
Whenever I tell people where I work, they either tell me a
story of their own victimization, they try to get away from me as quickly as
possible, or they tell me how sad or hard my job must be. It’s true, although I
don’t let myself think about that. Just like I don’t let myself dwell on the
faces. Somehow, though, I am sitting at my desk and listening to Louie
Armstrong sing “What a Wonderful World” and thinking that it couldn’t be truer.
It’s a cruel world. It’s a difficult world. It’s a sad world. It is also a
wonderful world. And sometimes there is wonder in the midst of the sadness. It
is with that revelation in mind that I invite you to come see the faces.
Friday, April 19, 2013
5pm-7pm
3701 Grandel
St. Louis, MO
63103
Comments by Jessica Meyers, Director of Advocacy Services
Beautifully written. You brought tears to my eyes.
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