Healing, Hope, and New Beginnings Await at "Permission To" Day 2025
It's a Journey - but there is HOPE
Azal Lockett
An Empowering Event to Help You Move Forward with Peace, Purpose, and Joy
The WHY: On December 15, 2020, Dr. Portia Lockett received a call that no mother ever wants to get: her beloved son, Azal Benne’ Lockett, had died. Initially reported as a car accident, it was later revealed that Azal had been shot and, in a desperate attempt to seek help, crashed into an EMT truck.
The case remains unsolved, leaving Dr. Lockett and her family with unanswered questions and profound grief.
Azal, born on September 9, 1992, in Detroit, Michigan, was known for his fervent, industrious, loving, and giving spirit. His unexpected and sudden departure left his family and countless others grieving, mourning, and facing the challenge of healing and adjusting to life without his physical presence.
In the midst of this unimaginable loss, Dr. Lockett found a renewed sense of purpose. Drawing on her experience as a hospital chaplain, spiritual advisor, and grief recovery specialist, she established the Azal Benne’ Lockett Foundation. The foundation aims to support individuals dealing with loss and trauma by connecting them with helpful services like counseling, financial resources, and training .
One of the foundation's key initiatives is the "Permission To" series, which includes events like "Permission To Grieve," "Permission To Heal," "Permission To Live and Laugh," and "Permission To Love Again." These events provide safe spaces for individuals to process their emotions, find hope, and connect with others on similar journeys .
Dr. Lockett's resilience and dedication have not gone unnoticed. She has been recognized for her efforts to transform personal tragedy into a mission of healing and support for others. Her work serves as a testament to the power of turning pain into purpose and the importance of community in the healing process.
In a world that often tells us to carry our pain in silence, the Azal Benne Lockett Foundation invites the community to a life-changing gathering — Permission To Day 2025 — on Saturday, May 17, 2025, at the beautiful Denise Wellons-Glover Welcome Center at Wayne County Community College District NW Campus.
Doors open at 8:30 AM, and the day of transformation runs from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM. Tickets are just $25 per person or $40 per couple, including breakfast and lunch.
This event isn't just another conference. Permission To Day is a sacred space — a heartfelt, hope-filled experience where healing isn’t heavy, and growth is celebrated.
Attendees will walk away with practical tools, fresh encouragement, and honest conversations that validate their journey — whether navigating grief, life transitions, or simply seeking to reclaim joy. Expect an atmosphere that feels like family, full of laughter, learning, and love.
Highlights include:
- Growth-centered panel discussions
- Inspirational speakers sharing relatable, real-life stories
- Guided reflection and reconnection spaces
- Community, connection, and actionable takeaways for emotional wellness
"Healing doesn’t have to hurt. At Permission To Day, we give you permission to move forward — with peace, with purpose, and with power," says Dr. Portia Lockett, Founder of the Azal Benne Lockett Foundation and leading voice for hope and healing.
Get your ticket today:
👉 Eventbrite: Permission To Day 2025
Event Details at a Glance:
📅 Date: Saturday, May 17, 2025
⏰ Time: 9:00 AM - 3:00 PM (Doors open at 8:30 AM)
📍 Location: Denise Wellons-Glover Welcome Center, WCCCD NW Campus
Spread the Word:
Follow the Azal Benne Lockett Foundation on Facebook, LinkedIn, and Instagram for event updates.
Don’t miss this opportunity to give yourself — or someone you love — permission to heal, laugh, grow, and thrive.
About the The ABL Foundation:
ABL Foundation represents the fervent, industrious, loving, and giving spirit of its namesake, Azal Benne’ Lockett. The foundation was created in his honor after his tragic departure from this life in December 2020.
His unexpected and sudden departure left his family and countless others grieving, and mourning as they met the challenge of healing, having hope, and holding their hearts together as they adjusted to life without Azal’s physical presence.
A servant, loving, passionate, and giving are a few words that describe Azal. As the ABL Foundation reaches out to assist families during their grieving, we are honored that his living legacy will touch countless lives.
Azal Benne Lockett Foundation
P.O. Box 44942 Detroit,MI, 48233
(844)9-ABLHELP
(844) 922-5435
About the Creator
Dr. Pam Perry
Dr. Pam Perry is an award-winning communications & PR professional working with established experts and experienced entrepreneurs – helping them share their brand story to attract clients. ❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Dr. Pam Perry and writers in Families and other communities.
Stephen Boyd’s Tips for Empowering Administrators for Effective School Management
In the realm of education, the importance of effective school management cannot be overstated. Stephen Boyd, renowned as 'The Student Engagement Agent,' offers a comprehensive blueprint aimed at empowering school administrators to excel in their roles and drive school success. His career, spanning over 27 years, has evolved from teaching music at various school levels to significant roles in school administration, and now, to leading SB ENTERTAINMENT LLC, focusing on transformative educational leadership.
By Dr. Pam Perry9 months ago in Education
Wise~Guys
— Look Behind what's in Front of You ~ Make Good Choices — Hey, So how you Doin'..! Made~Men — Mobster Movies romanticise a distinctive, elegant appearance, impeccable attire style, along with the 'Families' expressive lingo. Making their 'Bones' gave them Panache — with vintage fedoras, tailored pin-striped suits, mirror-polished wing-tip shoes adorned with tassels; with their 'Gun Moll' gorgeous dates on their arms.
By Jay Kantor11 days ago in Families
Home Through the Winter Rain
Winter arrived gently that year, not with snowstorms or icy winds, but with steady rain that seemed to fall without end. The sky was a soft gray, heavy and calm, and the air smelled of wet roads and cold earth. On one such evening, a small family climbed into their own car, ready to begin the familiar drive home. The engine started with a low, comforting sound. The headlights cut through the mist, glowing warmly against the rain. The parents sat in the front seats, wrapped in thick coats, their breaths forming faint clouds before the heater slowly warmed the air. The mother adjusted the mirror, smiling softly as she glanced back at the children. The father rested his hands on the steering wheel, careful and steady, already focused on the road ahead. In the back seat, the children were bundled together like little birds hiding from the cold. Their jackets were bright against the dark interior of the car, and their shoes were still damp from puddles they had jumped in earlier that day. One child hugged a stuffed bear tightly, its fur worn soft from years of love. Another leaned close to the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass in twisting paths. “Look,” one of them whispered, tracing a finger along the foggy window. “That one is winning.” The rain seemed alive outside, each drop racing the others, merging and separating, disappearing at the bottom of the glass. Streetlights reflected in the wet road, stretching into long golden lines that shimmered and broke apart as the car moved forward. The heater clicked louder now, filling the car with warmth. Slowly, gloves were pulled off, scarves loosened. The tight cold of winter faded into something soft and safe. The radio played quietly in the background—an old song the parents knew by heart. They didn’t sing out loud, but their heads moved gently to the rhythm. As the car traveled through the rain, the father slowed at each turn, careful not to rush. Tires whispered against the wet road. The mother pointed out familiar places as they passed—a closed bakery, a dark park, a row of houses glowing faintly from inside. Everything looked different in the rain, quieter, calmer, as if the world itself was resting. The children grew sleepy, their earlier excitement fading into peaceful silence. One rested their head against the other’s shoulder. The stuffed bear slipped onto the seat between them. Outside, the rain tapped steadily on the roof, a soft rhythm like a lullaby. “Do you remember,” the mother said gently, “when we used to drive like this before you were born?” The father smiled. “Long drives. Late nights. Just us and the road.” “And now,” she said, glancing back again, “we’re all here.” The children didn’t fully hear the words, but they felt their meaning. They felt it in the warmth of the car, in the way the parents’ voices sounded calm and close, in the steady movement carrying them safely forward. The road curved toward the edge of town. Trees stood bare, their branches dark and shining with rain. Water pooled along the sides of the street, reflecting the passing lights like tiny mirrors. Somewhere far away, a dog barked once, then fell silent again. One child stirred and yawned. “Are we almost home?” “Soon,” the father answered softly. That word—home—settled into the car like another blanket. Home meant dry clothes and warm soup. It meant lights in the windows and shoes left by the door. It meant safety from the cold rain and the long gray sky. As they drove, the rain began to slow. The drops grew smaller, lighter, until they were more like a mist. The clouds above thinned just enough to let a pale glow through, not quite moonlight, but something close. The world felt gentler somehow, as if winter itself had decided to be kind. The car turned onto a quiet street. Houses lined the road, each one familiar, each one holding its own small stories. The father parked slowly, switching off the engine. Suddenly, the world felt very still. The rain whispered one last time, then faded into silence. The children woke fully now, blinking and stretching. Coats were zipped, hats pulled on. The mother gathered the stuffed bear and handed it back with a smile. The father stepped out first, opening the door and letting in a breath of cool winter air. They walked together toward their house, shoes splashing softly in shallow puddles. The porch light glowed warmly, welcoming them home. Inside, the house smelled faintly of dinner and clean air. The door closed behind them, shutting out the cold and the rain. Jackets were hung up. Shoes were lined neatly by the door. The children laughed quietly, already talking about tomorrow. The parents watched them for a moment, tired but content. Outside, winter continued its slow rain. Inside, the family moved easily through their evening, wrapped in comfort and love. And though the night was cold, and the roads were wet, the journey had been enough—because they had made it home together.
By Sahir E Shafqatabout 15 hours ago in Families
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.