Still My Child Event

Written by LaToya Mason on 6/13/26

Some things don’t make sense until you have to look back.

Months before my son, Zedrick Maurice Warner Jr., was taken from us, we had conversations that I didn’t realize would one day become so significant. We talked about purpose. We talked about family. We talked about legacy.

One message in particular stays with me.

“Before it’s said and done ima have some for my kids and your grandkids to fall on and say they daddy left something for them… We didn’t have nothing literally when daddy left… ima be different. Watch.”

Another time he told me,

“I know you independent but you ain’t gone have to work no more one day… I appreciate you. Don’t ever think I overlook that. Ima man now mama… don’t ever underestimate my love for this family.”

When I read those words today, I don’t just hear my son’s dreams. I hear his heart.

The foundation carries my son’s name, but its purpose carries his heart. Long before he left this earth, he was talking about leaving something behind that would help other people. I truly believe I’m just carrying the vision forward.

A few weeks ago, that vision came to life as the Zedrick Maurice Warner Jr. Foundation hosted our very first Still My Child gathering.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what the day would look like. I had planned every detail, but I had also prayed over every detail. My prayer wasn’t for a certain number of people to attend. My prayer was that every mother who walked through those doors would leave knowing she wasn’t alone.

And that’s exactly what happened.

From the moment everyone arrived, there was a peace in the room that can’t really be explained. We came together as strangers, but before the afternoon was over, it felt like family.

We made candles together.

We shared our stories.

We laughed.

We cried.

We embraced one another.

There was no pressure to pretend we were okay. There was no expectation to hide our tears. We were simply mothers who understood a pain that no parent ever wants to know.

One of the most meaningful parts of the day was hearing from our therapist, who reminded us that grief has no expiration date. There isn’t a right way to grieve, and there isn’t a timeline for healing. Every journey looks different, and that’s okay.

As I shared my own heart, there came a moment when my emotions overtook me. Before I could even gather myself, another grieving mother wrapped her arms around me.

I’ll never forget that moment.

People often think that because you’re leading, you’re always the strong one. The truth is, I needed that embrace just as much as anyone else in the room.

That’s what Still My Child became.

Not just an event.

Not just a gathering.

It became a reminder that healing doesn’t always happen through answers. Sometimes healing begins when someone simply sits beside you and understands your silence.

The name Still My Child says everything.

No matter how much time passes…

No matter how old they were…

No matter how they left this world…

They are still our child.

I am thankful for every mother who trusted us with her story, every volunteer who served with love, every professional who shared their knowledge, and every person who supported this vision. You helped create a space where grief was met with compassion instead of judgment and where love was stronger than loss.

Although this event was inspired by my son, it wasn’t just about him.

It was about every mother who still reaches for the phone to call her child.

Every father learning how to smile again.

Every sibling carrying memories that will never fade.

Every family trying to figure out what life looks like after the unimaginable.

My prayer is that everyone who walked through those doors left with something they didn’t have when they arrived.

Hope.

This was our first Still My Child, but it will not be our last.

As long as God gives me strength, the Zedrick Maurice Warner Jr. Foundation will continue creating spaces where grieving families are reminded that they are seen, they are heard, they are loved, and they never have to walk this journey alone.

Because love doesn’t end when life does.

And they will always be…

STILL MY CHILD