On Saturday, July 4, my son Antonio came by to shower to get ready for a cookout with my brother Bobby at our aunt’s house. We laughed and talked before he left. The last thing he said was, “See you later, Ma.”
I got a call later that evening from my brother. He said, “Sis, I have some bad news.” I said, “Real bad?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “Is Tonio OK?” He said, “No.”
I started screaming and gave my phone to my son. Tonio and Bobby had stopped at McDonald’s on Penn Ave, in Southeast Washington, D.C. They were in line; some kids were in the door throwing fireworks inside. One hit Tonio’s foot. He got out of line to see what was going on, and a 14-year-old shot and killed him. He was 36 at the time and a father of four. Always trying to help others. I was blessed to have him as a son.
The police came to my home to tell me he passed on the way to the hospital. This is my second son that was taken away from me. My life will never be the same.