NEW YORK (NYTIMES) - The day began the way that the man it was all for might have chosen to end it: with a prayer.
Huddled together, a group of 30 clenched one another's hands alongside a huge monster truck holding a maroon coffin on its bed. "Today's a special day for us," one member said with his head bowed at the start of his 90-second invocation. "Let's celebrate our brother X."
The group then joined over 1,000 people, mostly members of the Ruff Ryders motorcycle club, who had travelled to Yonkers, New York, to ride in a procession to Barclays Center in Brooklyn to celebrate the life of DMX, a man whom many described feeling an intimate closeness to, regardless of whether they had ever shared a word with him.
DMX, born Earl Simmons, died April 9 at age 50. He was memorialised on Saturday at Barclays Center, where a large "X" made of off-white flowers had been constructed in front of the main entrance. The rapper, who received three Grammy nominations, sold millions of records throughout his career and was the first musician whose first five albums made their debuts at No. 1 on the Billboard chart.
But even when DMX was the most popular rapper in the world, his music inspired a connection among fans in New York and beyond, who travelled to the invitation-only event - regardless of whether they would be able to go inside - to honor a man whose lyrics about personal tumult, they said, had helped them navigate their own troubles.
"He helped me deal with trauma in a time where that wasn't acceptable to talk about," said Ms Bridget Nixon from Orlando, Florida. "He got me through things from my childhood that now, at 46, I'm still dealing with and addressing."
She added: "He saved my life."
It was reflective of the celebratory mood throughout the afternoon - and the deeper spirit of mourning that lay underneath. Boisterous embraces among friends often devolved into lingering, emotional huddles.
The tribute began with a video of DMX and one of his daughters, hundreds of feet in the air atop a roller coaster as he tried to calm her. "Daddy's here," he shouted.
It was the beginning of a memorial in which relatives sought to remember the man fans knew for his lyrical prowess and one-of-a-kind flow as Earl, their fiercely loyal family member.
Hours earlier, before the memorial began, a crowd of hundreds broke into several impromptu choruses of Ruff Ryders' Anthem and grooved to the rapper's music on the sidewalk. It seemed that everyone carried some image of DMX, whether printed on shirts and hats that depicted his album covers or clutching on to paperback photos of him.
