In Memory of Solomon Xavier Thompson cont. |
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I first met Solomon Xavier Thompson (as he always referred to himself) in early 2017, when he was among the first participants in our Ignatian retreat program. From the first time I met him, Solomon left a deep and lasting impression. He was a rare gem: deep, reflective, quiet, spiritual, honest, always inquiring, quirky, full of integrity, loyal, and never afraid to be himself. I grew to love Solomon deeply and valued both our pastoral conversations and his participation in our groups. He always arrived with something to share — a smile, a laugh, a thoughtful question, a poem, spoken word, a rap, photos — and always a request for a song. Solomon was a dedicated member of our community, carrying himself with meticulous care and dignity. He frequently braided and re-braided his hair in intricate, impressive styles; with these skills, it’s not surprising that, for a time, he worked as a prison barber.
If Solomon was in the room, I never had to set up a music stand, fetch a glass of water, or worry about anything beyond my control. He was a kind of “I’ve got you” person, with no fanfare or bravado, just a protective awareness of those he cared for. When my husband Gerry was diagnosed with cancer and enduring aggressive and debilitating treatment, he never once failed to ask about him or assure me of his prayers. I was blessed to be among the people he considered a friend. |
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On February 20, 2026, Solomon was murdered on Capitol Hill in Seattle, while minding his own business, not armed or threatening, or causing trouble to anyone. According to the newspaper report, the man who shot Solomon had just told the people around him, “I’m going to shoot that man.” The news devastated me. It still takes my breath away and leaves a heavy ache in my chest. I’m heartbroken, and as we know, it’s hard to know what to do with such anguish. Sometimes the pain runs so deep that you want to run, but there’s nowhere to go. We must feel it, weep it, perhaps journal it, pray with it, and hold it as a sacred sign of something cherished. |
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| Solomon was highly intelligent. He had a kind heart and sense of humor. He was good with animals and children. Solomon wanted to become a lawyer and end the injustices of our criminal system.
~Constance, Solomon's Friend |
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Solomon also participated in our Blessed and Beloved writers program, and Bill Herkes, his faithful pen-pal, grieves with us, as does "Big Nate" Sanders, one of our board members, who spent time with Solomon in the WSR unit. At his memorial service, Solomon’s family and friends were deeply moved to meet Bill and Nate and to hear them each read a piece of Solomon’s poetry or prose.
It’s been haunting knowing Solomon’s life ended so brutally. When I first learned, I couldn’t fathom the senselessness and cruelty. The horrible scene I read about played over and over in my mind. In my imagination, I wanted someone who loved him to be there by his side, holding his hand as he died. I wanted to be there. Kind friends have tried to console me, reminding me that God was with Solomon when he died or that he’s in a better place now. And I know these things, but I suspect the need to replay and come to terms with how he died is part of the grieving process. Solomon was my friend, our friend, here on this earth, where his presence was a delight. I miss that presence. I miss his hearty laugh, his voice and his question that will forever echo in my heart. |
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“Whatcha got for me today, Jenny?” |
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| Go to the Limits of Your Longing by Rainer Maria Rilke
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand. |
Postscript: This poem was Solomon’s favorite answer to “Whatcha got for me today?” Remarkably, it seems to forecast both the terror and that God would be, in the end, holding his hand. |
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