I didn’t have words for hours brother. For a while, I didn’t even have clear thoughts. Despite seeing the outpouring of love, your face everywhere, your name being memorialized I couldn’t accept reality.

It wasn’t until I went to see my mom the day after that tears began to fall brother. It had been ten years since she came out of the house on 5–4 and Locust and saw us about to fight some niggas we ain’t like at the time. Moms came flying down the porch, and wrapped her arms around you, putting herself in harm’s way to prevent havoc. I remember you joking that Moms was more gangsta than any of us. Since you stayed a few blocks away anytime you saw her coming or going, you kept an eye out for her.

As I relayed the unfortunate news and my mother began to cry, one word came to my mind that defines you: transcendent.

I remembered in high school, seeing white teachers being transfixed in the same manner that the street niggas we ran with would be when you spoke. Your sincerity and intelligence transcended what most who weren’t privy to that side of you expected.

I spent my early high school years with you, Jay, Delmar, Big Joe, Mooka (Rest In Peace), and Craig. Can’t even recall all the fights we got in. One of us had an issue with a nigga, all of us have an issue with the nigga, no questions asked. But brother, even then at 16–17 years old, despite being unable to put the words to it, I recognized deep down that wasn’t who I truly was — or at least not who I wanted to be. And while there are many people that God allowed to guide me to a better path, one of the most paradigm-shifting words I heard came from you.

We were at Dave and Buster’s for Delmar’s mom’s engagement party. You gave me a certain look, it felt then and especially now like you were looking right through me. You then proclaimed to the table “Zach the smart one, the level-headed one, every group need one like him.” You called my bluff brother. The sly smile you gave after lets me know that you knew it too.

I started down a path of soul searching. My regret is that in that search I became too isolated and lost touch with you and the gang for a while. The beauty is that anytime I saw you we picked up right where we left off. A few months back we ran into each other on Water St. Brother it always struck me how you could be so present in a conversation with the person in front of you. I damn near lost track of time and after a while, my lady was tugging impatiently at my arm.

I think about that paradigm-shifting proclamation you made, I think about every time we stood side by side willing to fight whoever, I think about everyone, heartbroken, sharing memories of you. I saw a video of you dancing at a wedding man and it just reminded me that you had the most contagious, good energy brother. In no uncertain terms, when this city, when circumstance gave you the worst, you fought like hell to give everyone you loved your best. You were indeed one of one brother.

I pray for your children, I pray for your mother, I pray for all of your loved ones and brother my word is bond I’ll be there to support them.

Until we meet again, Maurice Owens, Rest In Everlasting Peace.