And now, we are left with a grief so heavy it feels impossible to hold.
A grief that demands more than attention.
It demands prayer.
It demands compassion.
It demands that we stop, even for just a moment, and lift this mother up in a way that reaches beyond words.
Because words alone are not enough.
They never are in moments like this.
This story is not just about tragedy.
It is about the unbearable weight of survival.
It is about a mother who is still here, breathing, even as everything she loved has been torn away.
It is about the quiet strength required to exist when existence itself feels impossible.
Shaneiqua survived.
But survival, in this moment, is not relief.
It is a burden.
A heavy, aching, relentless burden.
Because survival means remembering.
It means waking up to a world that no longer makes sense.
It means living with echoes—tiny voices that once filled rooms now replaced with silence so loud it hurts.
Imagine the toys left untouched.
The clothes that will never be worn again.
The beds that will remain empty.
Continued on the next page
