I took a well-needed break from gathering the pictures for John’s video tribute by going on a visit to look at the two cemeteries included in the funeral package I selected.
I joked with my sister and asked if she was tired of driving Miss Daisy around. She laughed and said, no, not yet.
The drive wasn’t very long but when we arrived at the first cemetery, I immediately knew it just wasn’t right. The headstones looked like a hodge podge of cement blocks all on top of each other. The winding gravel road which led to the plots kicked up dust all around the car and it just felt dirty. And creepy. I mean no disrespect to this cemetery or those who chose to have their loved ones buried there, but it was nothing like the beautiful, peaceful, and lush grounds of Glen Rest equipped with its own cremation garden.
The more we drove around the cemetery, the more my eyes, heart and spirit said no.
“Let’s take a look at the second one”, Cindy said as we were driving out, “hopefully that one will be better.”
The second cemetery just so happened to be directly across the street, and I was happy to see the entrance look more inviting than the first but the more she drove, the more my eyes, heart and spirit still said no. The entrance is fine, but the graveyard itself wasn’t much better than the one we just saw.
“I’m sorry, Cindy”, I said. “These two just are not it. I want John buried in a place which feels like peace and serenity. That’s what I always loved most about Glen Rest. I know Glen Rest is more expensive but that’s where John has to be.”
She emphatically shook her head yes and agreed.
“Decision made”, she said.
She then said she’ll add it to our “to do” list for tomorrow and call Glen Rest in the morning to schedule a visit to discuss plot availability and pricing.
God will provide.
He has to.
Time was running out and I had to get back home to compose John’s obituary to submit to the funeral home by tomorrow morning.
Getting out of bed today is just as hard as it has been every day since John was murdered.
If I could lay here in a ball and cry all day, I would do it. No doubt about it.
I don’t want to do anything at all, and I mean anything, but I know life has to keep moving forward and I have a funeral to plan for my only son.
I want to send John off the way he deserves so, because of him, I muster up the strength to get out of bed once again.
The calls keep coming, the doorbell constantly rings, and the food continues to be replenished by thoughtful, kind family and friends during our greatest time of need.
I’m very grateful.
In addition to my sister-mom, Cindy, being our constant source of support, my sister-in-love Annie-Mae has been amazing. Annie-Mae is my husband’s oldest sister. She continues to bring dish after dish of delicious food every day and also sits with him providing comfort and conversation as he tries to cope with this devastating loss.
While I have absolutely no appetite whatsoever, the little food I have eaten, cooked by Annie-Mae has made my tastebuds dance. She can cook like no other. I think her special ingredient is love.
I thank God for her.
I move the pan of chicken alfredo to the side and sit down at my kitchen table. I set the bags of photos in front of me and sigh. Looking through these pictures used to be so much fun but today is a different story.
As I begin to go through hundreds of photos of John for the video tribute, my heart breaks even more. He was such a sweet little boy who marched to the beat of his own drum. His eyes were filled with wonder and so much excitement as a child. He had the attention span of a gnat but loved his Gi-Joe’s and would play with them for hours on end. He was a protector of his little sister, Justice, and the pictures of them together show the special bond shared between the two. John grew into a handsome young man and then adult but always kept his heart of gold.
Pictures of our little family together, Ronnie, John, Justice, and me….
I can’t do this.
It’s too hard.
Then I hear John’s voice in my head saying, “You can do this mom. You can do this. Keep going.”
So, through the tears, I pull out the best photos I can find to show everyone John’s short life through the years. The pictures that break my heart the most are at the end which are of John and his eight-year-old daughter Kammy, especially the picture I chose to close out the video of them walking hand in hand on one of the last fun days they had together.
A picture which shows father and daughter walking together into the future or, sadly in this case, the last picture of them with each other.
So much has been taken by a senseless act of violence!
John won’t be here for Kammy’s thirteenth birthday.
He won’t be here for her sweet sixteen.
He won’t be here to see her graduate High School or see her turn eighteen.
He won’t be there to walk her down the aisle and give her away on her wedding day.
He won’t be here to see Kammy become a mother for the first time, nor will he be here to experience the joy of being called Paw Paw.
Not only will John miss these important milestones in her life, but Kammy will also miss her father’s presence even more.
In the midst of all these negative thoughts, I stop and hear:
But the most important thing she does have are all the memories.
Young adults don’t usually think about the clothes they’ll be wearing for their own funeral. They have their full life ahead of them and are planning for the future.
Parents don’t usually think about having to pick out burial clothes for their child. They think about their child’s graduation day, wedding day, about watching them create memories with their own children and just joining in on the flow.
Yet here we are.
We have to decide what John will wear for his own funeral and this sucks.
John wasn’t a suit and tie kind of guy so I’m not burying him in a suit and tie.
He always wore fatigues.
His lifelong dream was to be a soldier, and he went to boot camp to become a marine. Unfortunately, it was a dream deferred when he was released on honorable discharge before completion.
In spite of that, John was a military man in his heart, so both his dad and I, know without a shadow of a doubt what he would want to wear.
Fatigues.
But they can’t be just any old fatigues. Not the type of fatigues ordered on Amazon and delivered at your door. They have to be official fatigues worn by soldiers in the military.
I had no idea where to find them, but I knew Ronnie would.
Ronnie’s having a really hard time dealing with John’s murder, so I’ve taken the lead, along with my sister-mom, in handling all the affairs concerning John’s funeral but picking out John’s burial fatigues is the perfect thing for Ronnie to do. I asked if he’d go with me to buy them because I had no idea where to go.
Of course, he agreed and knew the perfect place; General Merchandise Co, which is a military surplus store.
Ronnie used to take John to General Merchandise Co, all the time when he was a child/teenager because John loved all things military. They would spend hours on end in that store picking out all types of military items from clothes to canteens. John would come home with the biggest smile on his face as he dumped everything out of the bag, onto the floor, to show me what he got.
But today’s visit would be nothing like visits from days past.
We pulled up to the store and as soon as we entered the door, I understood why John loved it so much. It was military heaven and had everything you could think of inside. It also had a musty smell to it but not musty in the sense of funky. Musty as in the musty odor of long-term storage. These clothes were worn by soldiers and treated with cleaning chemicals before being placed in storage, so the mixture of chemicals and storage made the building smell musty.
Ronnie paused for a moment and looked around. I could tell by the look in his eyes, he was going back down memory lane and thinking of the last time he and John were in this store together during much happier days.
I rubbed his back and said, “I know this is so hard for you.”
That quickly snapped him out of it and although there were rows and rows full of fatigues in assorted colors and designs, Ronnie went directly to the rack which had John’s favorite kind. He pulled out several shirts in John’s size, held them up and meticulously looked at each sleeve, then the front of the shirt, followed by the back. I watched without saying a word, thinking they’re all the same, but maybe he was just waiting to get that special feeling.
He then said, “This is the one”, and walked over to another rack filled with pants and did the same thing.
I could tell this was taking a toll on him and asked if he wanted to get anything else before we went to check out.
He surveyed the store and said, “No, I think we’re done here.”
As we were walking toward the register, he suddenly stopped and said,
“Socks. We still need to get him some socks.”
He went over to the area of the store to grab a pair of socks which took much longer than picking out Johns clothes.
I walked over to the register and patiently waited.
The clerk rang us up and we headed to the door. Ronnie paused and turned around to get one last look at the place which brought John so much joy.
He then shook his head and walked out the door.
The outfit Ronnie chose for John to wear looks exactly like the one he’s wearing below.
I can see John giving Ronnie a thumbs up as he smiles down on him saying,
“Good job, dad.”
And of course, the mom in me wasn’t going to let my child smell musty, so as soon as we got home, I threw everything in the washer and added an extra dose of Downy for good measure.
I’m sure John rolled his eyes and laughed, thinking “Soldiers don’t put Downy on their clothes, mom.”
One of the most stressful things about sudden death is not only the death itself but the costs of laying your loved one to rest if they don’t have life insurance or any other means of paying the funeral expenses.
I’m trying my best to remain standing from a blow that has crushed my soul and now something else is knocking the wind out of me.
John didn’t renew the life insurance policy we had originally set up for him when he became an adult, so it lapsed. The responsibility of paying his funeral expenses now fell on me and Ronnie, and we didn’t have the money.
After our meeting with Mr. Caliman, I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to pay for John’s funeral. I’m not an elaborate or extra person whatsoever but I’m adamant about giving my son a proper homegoing because he deserves it. Not only that, but I also want him buried at Glen Rest where my mom is and where I will be as well. I want John with me.
While sitting in the passenger seat of my sister’s rental car as she drove us home from the meeting with Mr. Caliman, I pulled out the Funeral Purchase and Contract Note which contained the details of the funeral package we selected for John. My eyes zeroed in on the total cost at the bottom of the statement, $11,396.21. The thought in my head slipped right out of my mouth,
“Oh my God, we can’t raise that much money!’
And of course, the tears started to flow…yet again.
“We sure can, and we sure will,” Cindy replied back. “You, Ronnie and John have so many people who love you and they’ll come through.”
We have less than a week to raise over $11,000.00. We have six days. Just SIX days to raise over $11,000.00.
Although my faith has faltered over the past three days, I’m a firm believer in God. He has been a constant source of provision and strength to me ever since I accepted Jesus Christ into my life August 7, 1988, but this is one of the greatest tests I’ve ever faced, and I’m worried.
I pray He comes through for us.
I pray He comes through for John.
Please God. Please come through.
We returned home and Cindy researched various GoFundMe campaigns set up by other families who were facing unexpected losses. She discovered the most successful campaigns were written in a way that drew you into their story. Stories that made you feel their pain. Stories that made you act and want to help.
So, she sat down and began to compose the GoFundMe post and with a few tweaks here and there, posted it live, and the donations started pouring in from everywhere:
Dear family, friends, and compassionate givers,
It’s with profound sadness that we share the heartbreaking news of the sudden and tragic passing of John Wilks on July 28, 2024. We are seeking your support in helping lay John Wilks to rest – a beloved son, proud father, loyal brother, faithful friend and above all, a very kind soul. John was truly one of a kind. Tall in stature with a gentle nature, he had a heart of pure gold and dreamed of making a difference in this world through acts of kindness and service.
His sudden passing has left an immeasurable and deep void in our hearts that can never be filled or replaced. Beyond the emotional toll of his unexpected passing, the financial burden of funeral expenses is overwhelming. As the family tries to get through this difficult loss, assistance is needed to alleviate some of the stress by helping to cover the expenses of his funeral and burial.
Please consider donating and sharing this campaign with your network. Every contribution, no matter how big or small, will go directly towards covering the cost of John’s funeral, burial, and other related expense to give John the respectful and loving farewell that he deserves. This support will also allow the family to focus on remembering John and his beautiful soul, while helping bring a measure of peace of mind they so desperately need during this time.
Last night was horrible. I couldn’t stop crying and thinking about John, so needless to say I got little to no sleep.
Ronnie did the best he could to comfort me, but I still couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
I had to get it together. We were meeting with the Funeral Director to finalize John’s funeral arrangements in just a few hours.
I went downstairs to grab something to eat but I still didn’t have an appetite.
We arrived at the funeral home a few minutes late, but Mr. Caliman greeted us with a smile and was very understanding.
Ronnie came with us this time. He’s having as difficult of a time handling John’s death as I am, but I felt his presence was needed for the final decisions.
Mr. Caliman offered his condolences as we sat down and then began the meeting. He pulled out the funeral package pricing sheet and began going over the costs of each individual package and what they included. I’m so glad my sister-mom was with us because I couldn’t follow a word he was saying. It was much too complicated for me to comprehend at a time of such sorrow. Cindy had pen and notepad in hand and handled everything like a boss. She clarified and confirmed the massive amount of information being given to us and posed thoughtful questions. She then translated the information to us so we could make the decisions.
Mr. Caliman then asked if we had a date and time for the funeral to which I replied,
“Yes, August 8th, at First Church of God. The viewing is at 10 am followed by the funeral at eleven.”
He made a note of it on his laptop. Then he asked where we wanted John’s burial and explained there were two specific cemetery locations that were included in the packages at a discounted price.
My immediate response was Glen Rest Memorial Estates where my mother and maternal side of the family are buried but sadly, it wasn’t one of the choices. I have always wanted to be buried near my mother at Glen Rest, but this situation definitely changes things. He then informed us it would be more expensive to bury John at Glen Rest but if that’s where we wanted him to be, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Actually, there was a problem. When John became an adult, he didn’t continue the life insurance policy we set up for him, so it lapsed. We didn’t have the money to pay his funeral expenses. I didn’t know what to tell Mr. Caliman. I had no idea what we should do about the burial location.
I wrestled with this decision because I know we have to watch the budget, but I want John buried at the same cemetery where I will be. Once the good Lord calls me home, I want John next to me.
Cindy broke the conundrum by suggesting we take a visit to see the two cemeteries included in the package and then make the decision.
Thank God for my Sister-Mom. Her presence was invaluable.
The only decision I made on my own was I wanted John to have a black coffin with a spray of flowers that contained red carnations and white carnations with tips dipped in black, placed on top of the casket.
John’s favorite colors were black, red, and white.
I smiled just a little and said, “I think he would like that” and Ronnie agreed.
Cindy figured out the remaining details and presented them to us for agreement so Mr. Caliman could draw up the contract.
The service will be held at my home church, First Church of God, but we still need the funeral home to get John’s body from the coroner, prepare him for the funeral, guide us through the process and provide critical services needed to lay John to rest. First Church of God would work in conjunction with the funeral home to make sure John’s service will include everything I want and all he deserves.
Mr. Caliman then turned to Ronnie and asked how he wanted John’s hair cut and if he had a beard, how should it be trimmed. Ronnie described what he wanted. Mr. Caliman nodded his head and said he understood but to be on the safe side he requested that I email a picture of John for the barber to look at.
I broke down yet again and leaned on Ronnie for comfort. This is so damn hard.
Mr. Caliman then handed the meeting over to his sweet assistant, Ms. Davis, who went over a few more details with us.
She asked if I had an idea of what I wanted to include in the obituary.
“No, I haven‘t figured that out yet,” I responded.
She asked if I wanted a video tribute playing on the screen during John’s viewing.
I didn’t even think of that but said “yes, of course”
She asked if I had burial clothes for John.
“Ummm, no but I’ll get them” I replied.
She then handed me a form which would assist me with composing the obituary, provided the website address to upload my pictures and music for the video tribute and said she needed this information completed and returned to her by the morning of August 5th.
We could bring John’s clothes when we come in to sign the contract on August 5th, she instructed.
“This is all so overwhelming” I thought.
She not only read my face but also my body language and quickly gave me a hug.
“Call me if you have any questions or need assistance and I’ll be happy to help” she said when the embrace ended, “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
My spirit was crushed.
I have so much to do in so little time.
This funeral is going to be expensive, and we don’t have the money to pay for it. I didn’t really look at the total amount quoted at the bottom of the paper I held in my hand, but I knew it wouldn’t be cheap.
Today I spent most of the morning in bed crying. I still have so much to do but I just couldn’t get out of bed.
By midafternoon, I was finally up and on the phone with the Prosecutors’ office, the Medical Examiner’s office, my church office and the funeral home. I let the office assistant at the funeral home know we want them to handle John’s funeral in conjunction with my church and need to schedule a meeting with Mr. Caliman for tomorrow.
I’m an empty shell just going through the motions.
The most important call of the day was to First Church of God. Sister Valerie, the Church Clerk, answered the phone and I explained that I needed to speak to someone about scheduling a date for John’s funeral. She let me know Sister Pam handles the funerals for the church and would give me a call back later today.
A few hours later, Sister Pam called and expressed her love and condolences. She gathered a little more information from me, and we decided John’s Homegoing Celebration would be held at First Church of God on August 8, 2024. The viewing will begin at 10am followed by the funeral which will start at eleven.
I thanked her for calling me back, hung up the phone and cried.
It’s official, August 8th will be the day I say my final goodbye to my son.
We arrived at the funeral home a few minutes early and were greeted with a warm smile and words of condolence.
I looked around and thought, yeah, this is a funeral home. The interior was made up to be as inviting as possible and felt somewhat familiar. I then remembered we were at this funeral home a few years ago for my husband’s nephews service so I had been here before, but today, it looked totally different.
It looked different because of the reason I was here this time. I was here to discuss the funeral service for myson.
We were instructed to take a seat and told the funeral Director’s assistant will be out shortly.
I sat there still in disbelief as to why we were here.
I have to plan a funeral for my twenty-eight-year-old son. My twenty-eight-year-old son who was gone way too soon.
I looked around the room and saw pictures hanging on the dark wooden walls and a display stand filled with several types of pamphlets about death and how to handle it. I didn’t think I could cry anymore but, again, the stream of tears began to flow. I reached over to grab a tissue from a lavender floral box sitting on the tiny wooden end table beside me.
And cried.
The Assistant Funeral Director came to the lobby a few minutes later and led us back to a small conference room. We sat down and he expressed his condolences. He explained, since this was a preliminary meeting, he would provide the basic information, give us a package pricing sheet and answer any questions we had. If we decide to allow them to handle John’s services, we should call them by tomorrow to schedule a meeting with The Funeral Director, Mr. Caliman, on August 2nd. We also should let him know the date the funeral service will be held if we’re able to do so.
He briefly explained the various packages and my sister-mom, Cindy, took copious notes and asked all the questions. To be honest I couldn’t think straight and could only answer a few questions so she stepped in just like my mother would have done had she still been here with us.
We returned home just in time to catch my mother’s sisters, Aunt Kay, Aunt Marilyn and Ms. Debbie as they were dropping off a large pan of baked spaghetti, several bags of mixed salad and garlic bread. They greeted me with warm hugs and lots of love as they expressed their condolences.
They could see I was exhausted so didn’t stay very long but told me to call them if I needed anything.
Every time I see my aunts, it makes me miss my mom so much. I really need a hug from her and to hear her say everything will be alright.
I’m lying in bed and can barely move. I just can’t get up.
I’ve experienced grief before with the passing of both parents in 1999 and 2017, respectively so grief isn’t new for me. I was able to endure those painful times quite well considering the circumstances, but not this time around. Maybe it’s because my mom and dad were both very sick, and I had time to prepare. Maybe it’s because I was able to say my goodbyes before I watched them draw their final breaths. Maybe it’s because it was the proper order of things. We as children expect our parents to go before us.
This grief is different.
This is my son, and he was murdered.
This grief is excruciating.
This grief is debilitating.
My eyes well up with tears and they begin to roll down my cheeks. I keep shaking my head. I still can’t believe John is dead.
God, please help me.
I need God’s help more than ever today because it’s going to be one of the most difficult days of my life; we have to meet with the funeral home this afternoon.
Never in a million years would I think I’d be going to speak to a funeral home to discuss my child’s funeral service.
This is backwards; it’s out of order.
It’s not the way things should be.
I shouldn’t be burying my son. He should be burying me.
It’s a huge struggle but I finally sit up. I have to get moving because we need to stop by the grocery store before meeting with the funeral home.
So, I get out of bed and slowly put one foot in front of the other.
I made it to the grocery store with my sister to pick up paper products for the tons of food dropped off by my kindhearted family and friends. I was still in a dazed state, but luckily my sister was here to help me. So much needed to be done and I could barely put a sentence together.
I looked around at everyone going about their usual day. Women zipping up and down aisles tossing food in their carts for tonight’s dinner, children begging mothers if they could pleeeeasee have cereal loaded with sugar and men struggling to find the items their wives sent them to the store to get.
I looked around with anger because I wanted scream to the world, “My son is dead! How can you just go on living?”
I grabbed a few stacks of paper plates, cups and plastic silverware and headed to the check-out line. My sister was still shopping for a few other items she wanted but I didn’t want to wait. All I wanted to do was get in line, pay for my things and get to the car before I busted out crying… again.
Since I missed the arraignment earlier today, I decided to see if there was anything online about John’s murder.
One thing I’ve learned through all this is that after the official notification, the victim’s family truly is the last to know information about an investigation. At first, I was angry because I feel we have a right to know everything first. We’re Johns family! But after calming down, I realized law enforcement does this for a reason. It’s to help John. Information is withheld to protect the integrity of the investigation and prevent the compromise of evidence. So, in most cases, the victim’s family finds out when the public does.
While the detectives were tight lipped when I asked them to tell me more about what happened to my son and the details surrounding his murder, the news was loose lips and telling the world what I feel should have been told to us first.
For what it’s worth, I was glad to find out some details about the death of my son but boy, was it hard to read.
It actually took me a few hours to read the full article below and a few others because it was so painful. I kept starting and stopping. Starting and stopping. This was my son about whom I was reading. These were the last moments of my child’s life here on earth and I know he was terrified.
The more I read, the more my heart broke; One may think the heart can no longer break once it’s shattered into a million pieces but that’s not true. The million pieces then break into a million more and it repeats until you’re left with a crushed soul.
I wouldn’t wish for a crushed soul on my worst enemy.
Not even on the one who murdered my son.
The Article
Columbus police identify man killed in Hilltop shooting; suspect in custody
COLUMBUS, Ohio — The Columbus Division of Police identified the man who was found dead in the Hilltop neighborhood Sunday night.
Officers were called on a report of a shooting in the 700 block of South Ogden Avenue shortly after 10 p.m. When police arrived, they found 28-year-old John Wilks unresponsive and had a gunshot wound. He was pronounced dead at the scene at 10:25 p.m.
Officers also found a woman nearby suffering from a gunshot wound. She was transported to Grant Medical Center and her condition was described as stable.
Columbus Police Sgt. Joe Albert said a helicopter located the suspect, 18-year-old Mehki Miller, in a vehicle. He got away from police but was later apprehended in the neighborhood after officers searched the area.
Miller was charged with murder.
Police said the shooting stemmed from a dispute between Miller and Wilks.
Records from Franklin County Municipal Court state that Miller and Wilks were fighting before the shooting happened. Miller allegedly pulled out a gun from his waistband and shot Wilks at close range. Wilks attempted to get away and Miller shot him again multiple times.
Court records say that Miller dragged Wilks’ body to a detached garage behind the shooting scene before leaving the area.
Court records did not provide details on how the woman was shot.
After reading the above article, I’ve never felt so much anger, hurt, pain and horror with how my son died. I cried so hard.
When I finally calmed down, my first thought was, now I know the name of who killed my son, and it was who I believed it to be, John’s girlfriend’s nephew. The kid who John told me was ‘trouble’ and didn’t want around because he had a gun.
Second, I will never address him by his full name. From here on out, whenever I mention him, I’ll call him ‘Miller the Killer’
Third, who was the woman in the car with ‘Miller the Killer’ and why was she in the car with him after he killed my son?
I tossed and turned all night, while my phone continued to ring nonstop, and my message notifications played a tune of their own.
I finally fell asleep around 5 am and woke up at 10 am. I began to check my messages, and heard one from Kristine at the Prosecutors office telling me there was an arraignment this morning at nine. My presence wasn’t mandatory she said, but if I wanted to attend and give a victim’s statement to the judge, I was more than welcome to do so.
As difficult as it was for me, of course, I wanted to make my statement to the judge, but I received the message too late, so I couldn’t go . Needless to say, I was very disappointed.
The Prosecutors office called me later that afternoon to give me an update:
The judge set a bond at five million dollars with instructions for no contact with the victim’s family.
At this time there is only one murder charge pending but upon further investigation, there would surely be more charges added to the case.
The next court date is 8/9/24. I will be notified one day in advance by phone to attend and I can provide a victim’s statement to the judge at that time.
Tears are flowing, my mind is in a fog and there’s still so much to do but best, believe, I will make it to the next hearing.
I am John’s voice, and I will speak for him.
A Mysterious Message
July 30, 2024
At two o’clock this afternoon, I heard a ping on my phone notifying me of a message I just received on Facebook. I opened the message which read:
“Can you please give me a call” followed by a phone number.
I don’t know this person personally but know who they are and know they’re close to John. They’re also connected to his murder case. Another innocent victim albeit, not of death but by association.
Although I’m pretty sure they have knowledge as to what actually happened to John, I just couldn’t muster up the nerve to make that call to hear what they had to say. It was just too hard.
It’s a decision, I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life.
