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On a Friday afternoon, at 3:50 p.m., my world forever changed. At that moment, my beloved husband and two of his coworkers were killed by a disgruntled employee. The shooter had picked up his weapon the previous day, after waiting the required waiting period.

That evening, my children, then aged 3 and 5, and I returned from a community event to find a business card from the police department stuck in my front door. At that moment, I knew something was drastically wrong, since I hadn’t been able to reach my husband. Never, never, did I imagine that the news would be that he was dead from multiple gunshots.

It took a long time, and a lot of hard work, but we’re OK now. My husband’s parents have never really quite recovered. As my kids enter high school, the milestones that their dad should be celebrating with us are stacking up as brutal reminders that he is not here with us.

I truly believe that if the shooter had not had a gun that day, four families would be living different lives today.

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