Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss.
I don’t know why the notice of any death now hurts me deep. Real deep. Maybe it’s because I’m a mom now. Maybe it’s because I lost my father. Maybe (as my cousin would say) it’s because of age.
tWitch. A father. A husband. a man. a black man. If you were into dance culture or the Ellen show, you knew tWitch.
I certainly didn’t know him personally. His TV personality captured me. I am not entertaining the conspiracy theories. It’s sad enough. I don’t care past the fact that a person that brought so much joy to my life is gone.
It reiterates that the happiest people have struggles that we don’t know about. Hell, I stay as positive as possible and I have plenty of struggles that most don’t know. It also, in my mind contradicts (which isn’t the best word), but brings to mind that “God gives his toughest battles to the strongest soldiers”.
I believe both statements. On one side of things, I don’t think we are given more than we can handle. My divorce has taught me that. On the other hand, my divorce has driven me to extremely hard times that I never saw coming. I know I put on a happy face when things are breaking down inside for me. I’ve been told countless numbers of time how “I would have never known you were dealing with so much, if I didn’t know you.” While some think that’s a compliments… it simply is not.
I’m sadden by the death of tWitch. Learning that it was possibly by suicide does weigh a little heavier. I have gone through some tough shit and I can’t imagine what he may have been pondering. I don’t want to know.
My heart goes out to his family. I’ve shed plenty of tears.