Learn About Rochelle's Journey
On That Faithful Day, September 21st, 2021.
My Story
I am Rochelle Marie Wood, born May 10, 1969, in Kettering, Ohio. I am a mother of six young men. I became a young mother at the age of seventeen. Yes, I was young, not knowing the first thing about a baby because I was still playing with Barbie dolls. I wasn’t told much about the birds and the bees back then; some of the parents thought they were protecting us, but it caused me to explore life, and I became pregnant with my first son, who was born in 1987.
I knew nothing about parenting, so his father stepped in, for which I’m very grateful and for my family. I gave birth to my second son in 1990, who is 34, and the journey continues. In 1993, I gave birth to my third son, now 30. In 2004, I got married, and I gave birth to Josiah, my fourth son, in 1998, who died at the age of 21 sadly due to gun violence. In 2000, I gave birth to my fifth son, who is 24, then the grand finale, in which I prayed for a girl again, another young man who was born in 2003, and I chose to stop trying; yes, I did lol who is 21 years of age.
I divorced in the 2000s, and as a young mother, you learn as you go with wisdom and knowledge that your family teaches; of course, I wasn't told much, but after my first son, who was born prematurely. I love all of my strong young men, and it’s very different for them in society. My life changed forever on September 20, around 3:30 am; I’ll never forget I was up around 1:30. I spoke to my son and asked him if he was ok, safe per se, a mother's intuition; he said yes, Mom, I love you. I said love ya, short words. I still did not feel good in my spirit, so I went to bed.
My 30-year-old son FaceTimed me, “Momma!” loud as he could. “They shot Josiah!” I said, “Oh no, lord, my baby son!” I was in bed. I screamed no, no as my baby son and I left out in our PJs; he called several family members, and everyone started to the University Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio; we almost wrecked getting there, speeding 90 miles. I was crying and praying that all of that got to the waiting area in the emergency department. I saw these detectives carrying brown bags, not knowing it was my son's belongings. My lord, the trauma began through brought us in a conference my family and the doctor says where he was shot at it’s critically he said he’s gonna die. I looked at him in shock; I could have strangled him.
I screamed. I can’t remember who was holding me up; as I got on the elevator to go up to ICU, got off, and walked into that room, oh my lord, to see my precious son lying there. I ran to him and screamed, “Why lord, why lord, no, no, not my child, please save him, let him live!” I was all over the place, and another family of his brothers came in behind me; it was traumatic for all of us. It was still COVID-19, which was just ending, so they were being cautious.
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I was screaming, “I don’t care about COVID-19; this is my child, and you’re stating he’s gonna pass. I don’t care what you are talking about; we have family coming from out of town.” Some of us faced times that were very, very sad. My son could hear as they said that’s the last to do. I whispered in my baby’s ear, “It’s ok, son, if you can’t fight anymore, go rest with the lord.”
Mom is gonna be ok. His brothers were telling him how much they loved him. So much anger, disbelief, heartbroken, all of it; my breath was taken away, and I was lifeless. I was there but wasn’t there; people have been telling me, Rochelle, I was at the hospital, not knowing my mind was blank, and as we all continued going in and out the room, giving others a chance to say they love him with tears flowing all over the place. I prayed on the bed with my son, playing his favorite worship songs and just speaking to him in a calm voice, rattling as a mom, knowing that he was leaving this natural side of life and journeying on to take his rest.
His pastor, who was their son, also, as they said we shared him, loved them and the sons so much. Those were his other brothers, my pastors, who prayed with us and over him in disbelief. As night drew, everyone left to go home with sadness. My sons stormed out in anger and sadness, hugging me, worried about my mental state and dad. He was right there with me throughout this journey in shock. Morning came, which seemed like it took a week to come, September 21, 2021; that's when the doctors gave us their take on this: it wasn’t the miracle we all were praying would turn around.
So that’s when my precious Josiah, who had a heart of gold, loved the lord with all his heart, loved going to church and worshipping, and was too kind at times, sorry to say. As a mom to the wrong people, my take on it is he loved everybody, if he was mad, not for long; he loved life and laughter and could dance his socks off; he loved drawing. His artwork was awesome. This is when the real journey began when they came in that morning of September 21, 2021, and did a test in front of us to see if his eyes would respond; they didn’t, but he could hear us; his heart was still beating at a low rate, but he was a fighter he hung on to the last breath.
I won’t say much more in this about me, but this is where it started for real about me. My precious Josiah took his last breath at 130 pm on September 21, 2021. May my son continue to rest as his mother speaks out on his behalf, due to the gun violence in the world.