It was a cold day for the annual Women’s March last Saturday, but I was not going to miss this one. I parked and walked to the march gathering on Main Street in Springfield, where I found a small but devoted group of women and men assembled there.
I looked for my friends, but did not see them at that moment. So I stood in the background and surveyed the crowd. Unfortunately, I forgot my cellphone and could not take any pictures. I was very annoyed with myself.
However, this left me time to simply observe. I noticed a group of three black women standing at the back of the crowd. They were all by themselves. One of them was holding a picture of a young man. I had a feeling as a mother and grandmother that this was very sad so I decided to ask these women if I might know what that picture was about.
The women welcomed my attention and my questions. No one had seemed to notice them. We exchanged greetings and names. Her son, this handsome young fellow about 15 years old, had been shot and killed in Forest Park. The look in her eyes was enough to bring me to my knees.
The other woman said she had lost her son in Forest Park as well. I was struck by the fact that they simply stood in the back of this group of marchers and were not acknowledged. As far as I was concerned, they should have been center stage. It broke my heart to see them standing there in the cold and grieving.
I know it is hard to reach everyone. The march organizers did their best. Yet, here were women who had suffered horrific losses. The Women’s March in 2020 began and ended. It was a good march with lots of singing and chanting, good speeches and wonderful signs, but the most powerful moment for me was taking a minute to grieve with those three women.
Robin Nardi
Westhampton