My son, Laquan Ali Majette, was born on January 20, 1980, in Newark, New Jersey. Quan was born with chronic asthama and bronchiolitis, which he outgrew, for the most part, by the age of 12. He was my second born of three children. He was raised in both the Newark and Orange areas of New Jersey, attending school located in the Newark, Orange, and Montclair, NJ school districts.

Laquan easily made friends with anyone with whom he came in contact. His charismatic personality drew people to him easily. Quan was the type of person that you simply could not hold anger toward. His beautiful smile; jokes; wise cracks; and sense of humor are one of many of his personality traits that will be remembered by many. Quan had the ability to make anyone burst into laugher or muster a smile at any given time.

Laquan played for the Orange Tornadoes and The Orange Hurricanes via the Pop Warner Football League in Orange, NJ. During his tenure, Laquan received rigorous coaching instruction from Head Coach, Dwayne "Shampu" Holmes (deceased) and Assistant Coach, my brother-in-law, Stencil Archie. Under their leadership they obtained two Newark Pop Warner Championship titles as well as Divisional Champs in 1996.
 
Numerous relatives and friends gathered together to proudly show support for the teams throughout his young football career. It is so very hard to find words to truly express how much Laquan was loved and appreciated throughout his young life, both on and off the field.

Laquan simply loved to play football. During his tenure at Montclair Kimberley Academy (MKA), he was awarded MVP and was chosen to become a team captain. He wore uniform #22. He was considered a dedicated leader and truly enjoyed coaxing his team mates. They enjoyed their bond and friendship off the field as well. His coaches and team mates considered Laquan to be one of their number one players.
 
Laquan continued his education and football career at Rowan University in Glassboro, NJ. After attending Rowan for a short time, he transferred to Montclair State University in Montclair, NJ. Unfortunately, uniform #22 was already assigned to another teammate, he wore uniform #20 and #6. This was a deep dissapointment to him. Yet again, he amazed all on the football field.

As with his teammates at Montclair Kimberley Academy, Laquan was well liked and respected by his teachers and colleagues at MSU. In addition, Laquan often received many compliments and well wishes that we will never forget. He also received several interviews by the local news papers during his short-lived career in football.

Because of a final devastating injury, his dream of playing pro-football ended. After he was diagnosed with a congenital spinal condition, he had no other choice but to stop playing the game he loved so much. He received several trophies, certificates and awards throughout his football career, which I will cherish forever.

Quan worked with his brother, Dion, for the past two years at Automatic Switch Company (ASCO), in Florham Park, NJ., where he was loved by many during his tenure.

His dream was to someday become a professional football player. His passion was to someday work in the the field of communication or public relations.

Laquan was laid to rest wearing his white and green MKA away Jersey. His cherished possession, a football that he received as MVP at Montclair Kimberly Academy, was laid to rest with him, along with items from those whom came to say farwell.

Laquan leaves many wonderful memories with those who know and love him so dearly. The bond that he had with all who knew him will remain embedded in our hearts, minds, and souls forever and a day.

There will forever be a void in the hearts and lives of those who know and love Laquan. He is remembered in a very special way by many!
          
Rest in Heavenly peace, Quan

Until We Meet Again, 
~Mom~ 

      

When I'm Gone

When I come to the end of my journey,
And I travel my last weary mile,
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned,
And remember only the smile.

Forget unkind words I have spoken,
Remember some good I have done,
Forget that I've ever had heartache,
And remember I've had loads of fun.

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered,
And sometimes fell by the way,
Remember I fought some hard battles,
And won, ere the close of the day.

Then forget to grieve for my going,
I would not have you sad for a day,
But in summer just gather some flowers,
And remember the place where I lay.

And come in the shade of the evening,
When the sun paints the sky in the west,
Stand for a moment beside me,
And remember only my best.

~ by Lyman Hancock ~

To Those I love
And to Those Who Love Me
Quan

Laquan was by no means perfect.
Like all of us he loved, he angered,
he laughed, he cried.
He made good choices and bad decisions,
as we all have.

Believe me he too had his faults.
(You who have never sinned cast the first stone)

One thing I believe we who knew him
can all agree on is that
he had a very warm heart.
Beneath that manly exterior,
he was a teddy bear.
Quan was your friend, your brother
because of who you are inside not out.

There was no such thing as color in his eyes.
He knew many people of all race, creed, and color.
He knew poeple who are wealthy, middle class, and poor.

I always taught my children that God loves us all.
In His eyes we are all clear.
I believe he kept that thought with him
while he lived.

Laquan's gift of voice touched the heart of
many people from all age groups.
His words of encouragement and
beautiful smile captivated many hearts.
I am sure this is one of many things
we who know and love him will always
keep embedded in our hearts.

Quan was not ashamed to cry or express his emotions,
He never hesitated to give me a warm, sincere hug
or say Ma, I love you.

They say my Quan was a mamma's boy
The last thing he said to me was
"I love you Ma, I love you Ma, Ma, I love you"
What I would give to still have my baby,
my youngest son here with me.



May God bless my child's soul
~His Mom~

               

I Walk by Faith and Not by Sight...

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
(Ps. 121: 1-2 )

I Can't Let Go...



It’s amazing how a number can become so significant, take on a totally different meaning...

01… Every New Year without him until God calls me Home

14… The last day he was alive on God’s earth. The last time he saw the sun rise.
 
15… The day the angels took him Home, five days before his 25th birthday
 
20… His birthday and number on his MSU football uniform.
 
22… The day we laid him to rest and number on his MKA and Orange Hurricanes (Pop Warner) football uniform.

24… He is forever 24!

FRIDAY:
The last day you saw the sun come up, rose from your bed.

SATURDAY:
In the early morning hour, before dawn, the angels took you Home.

TIME:
He will never be one second, one minute, one day, one week, one month, one year older. My baby, my child, my youngest son is forever 24!!!




My child got a death sentence. We who "TRULY LOVE HIM" get a life sentence. His murderer gets a choice, a decision, a second chance!

It's amazing how much you learn during a time of sorrow or trouble. You quickly learn who really loves you, who really cares, and who never really cared at all. It's the very one(s) that you think will truly understand whom are the one(s) to walk away first.

It's not about how we feel, it's how we make them feel. We must try hard to forgive them because they couldn't possibly understand unless they have walked in our shoes.

I sincerely pray that on the day death comes to take me to eternity, I have asked our Creator to forgive me and to accept me as His child. For those of us whom enter into paradise, all of these mortal things will no longer have meaning, concern, or significance. On that glorious day, all will be well with our soul, our debt will be paid in full.

Eternity:
He now lives in a home for the soul. There are no days, weeks, or months... There is no such thing as span of time, there simply are no years. His soul has been set free!

   

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning
(Ps 30:5)

I WISH

I wish you would not be afraid to speak
my loved one's name.
They lived and were important,
and I need to hear their name.

If I cry and get emotional if we talk about my loved one,
I wish you knew that it isn't because you hurt me;
the fact that they died causes my tears.
You have allowed me to cry and I thank you.
Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs.
I wish you wouldn't think that if I have a good cry
my grief is over, or that if I have a bad day
I need psychiatric counseling.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief
to be over in six months.
The first few years are going to be
exceedingly traumatic for me.
As with alcoholics, I will never be "cured" or
a "formerly bereaved", but forevermore be
recovering from the bereavement.

I wish you'd understand the physical reaction to grief.
I may gain weight, lose weight, sleep all the time or 
not at all, develop a host of illnesses
and be accident prone,
all of which are related to my grief.

My loved one's birthday, the anniversary of their death
and the holidays can be terrible times for me.
I wish you would tell me that you are thinking of me
and them on these days. 

And if I get quiet and withdrawn, just know that
I am thinking about them and don't try
to coerce me into being cheerful.

I wish you wouldn't offer to take me out for a drink,
or to a party, this is just a temporary crutch and
the only way I can get through this grief
is to experience it.
I have to hurt before I can heal.

I wish you'd understand that grief changes people.
I am not the same person I was before my beloved died
and I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams,
aspirations, values and beliefs.

Please try to get to know me-- 
I am the one who'll be here from now on.

~Author Unknown~ 

Father, forgive them;
for they know not what they do.(Luk 23:34)

The above poem was received via an email
 from Dottie Hagan
11/ 26/06

(Mom to Matthew Dean Hagan)
matthew-hagan.memory-of.com

Thank you Dottie!