Mom? Are YOU okay?
I had fallen back asleep on Sunday morning. It was around 9:00am, I think, and I sounded groggy as I answered the phone. Emma’s voice. Her question of my own wellness. I heard the slightest of quivers in her voice. I steeled myself. Something was wrong.
Mom? Miya was shot. She’s gone.
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When I Think of Death
by Maya Angelou
When I think of death, and of late the idea has come with
alarming frequency, I seem at peace with the idea that a day
will dawn when I will no longer be among those living in this
valley of strange humors.
I can accept the idea of my own demise, but I am unable to
accept the death of anyone else.
I find it impossible to let a friend or relative go into that
country of no return.
Disbelief becomes my close companion, and anger follows in
its wake.
I answer the heroic question ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ with
‘It is here in my heart and mind and memories.’
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“Magnificent Miya” is what I called her last week on her birthday. In the wee hours of August 1, 2021, a week after turning 24, she was robbed of her life in a random drive-by shooting in Providence, Rhode Island. She had been outside her car after leaving a party, talking with a friend, when a car raced by and let gunfire fly. The murder was random, senseless, devastating. Left in the wake of this violent death are her wonderful parents, Bryan and Michelle, her beloved older brother, Belamy, and her enthusiastic, fellow Harry Potter fan, sister-in-law, Emma. They’re a demonstrative, affectionate, loving family. The five of them had visited together just the day before the shooting, meeting up in New Hampshire for a day of exploring two Frank Lloyd Wright houses and sharing a meal. Emma and Bel had returned home to their Portland, Maine home Saturday evening.
I am Emma’s mom. Alongside my husband of 32 years, Eric, our first born daughter Sydney, and our son, Paul, Emma was raised in one of several lake regions of Maine, a state which is a three to four hour drive from Rhode Island. When Emma first expressed interest in exploring the University of Rhode Island in Kingston, we visited for the first time, delighting in the state’s beautiful shoreline, its friendly people, and its multiple opportunities for fun and adventure. In the four years that Emma attended URI, earning her BFA degree, we traveled the roads between Maine and Rhode Island several times a year.
It was there, in Emma’s college state, that we first met the Brophy-Baermanns. Belamy had traveled to Maine soon after he and Emma had begun dating, but we met Miya, Bryan, and Michelle at dinner one evening in Rhode Island. I remember feeling nervous about making a good impression on this family, but I need not have worried. Even though I foolishly ordered the largest meatball I’ve ever seen as an appetizer to devour by myself in front of this fully vegetarian family, and even though Eric unabashedly told his grandfather’s story of cooking up trash can clams or something or other, our first dinner together was full of genuine laughter and warmth. And smiling and laughing alongside us, her beautiful, happy eyes fully open and filled with comfort and admiration for her brother’s new girlfriend, was magnificent Miya.
There were more dinners together. There was a glorious wedding at the foot of Katahdin, our beloved hometown mountain here in Maine. Love and happiness surrounded our families that entire weekend. Miya stood next to Belamy as his best person. The two of them shared an incredible bond. We cried happy tears, we ate delicious food, we danced and laughed together for hours. Emma had previously regaled us with stories of how loving and accepting Miya was, of how lucky she was to have gained another sister. Miya embraced us too, sharing stories and laughs with Sydney and Paul, warmly hugging Eric and I whenever we saw one another that wedding weekend and at every visit before and afterward. The family came to our home for Christmas Eve one year and when Belamy had to go to bed early, suffering from a migraine, our two families felt no awkwardness at all. We were all one family.
Miya and I shared photos and posts with one another on Instagram and/or Facebook. I watched from afar as she shared her passion for righting the wrongs of the underprivileged and oppressed. She had moved to Rhode Island from Wisconsin when she was nine years old. She graduated from high school then earned her bachelor’s degree at URI. This year she earned her Master’s in Speech-Language Pathology at Northeastern University. She was working in her field immediately after graduation. She fought tirelessly for people who needed their voices uplifted. She was intelligent, witty, compassionate, and relentless when it came to caring for others. Her family, OUR family is in awe of her and incredibly proud of her accomplishments and her character. As Miya’s Mom has said, “She was all that’s good in the world”. She was at the start of a most illuminating, inspirational career. She was just beginning to soar high with those strong adult wings she had grown.
This past Sunday morning, we were robbed of a future with Miya. But we will not let anyone rob us of her power and inspiration. She will forever be our Magnificent Miya. We love her so much.
In memory of Miya’s bright light, in lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to https://gofund.me/7a2cef67 in support of the creation of a scholarship fund in Miya’s memory, in the hope of continuing her work, her passion for helping others, and further spreading the warmth and light she shared with us all. The funds raised will help to establish a memorial scholarship titled Miya’s Voice.
