My son Robert was murdered by firearm June 21, 2016. He was just eight days past his 36th birthday. The perpetrator ran away and was never caught.
The way we got to say goodbye to Robert was at the funeral home. He was brought in completely swaddled in sheets. He didn’t even look like a person under there, just lumpy sheets. They had cut a hole and drawn out his bare, ice-cold, right arm.
We all took turns holding his hand until it warmed by our own body heat.
He was then cremated.
We never got to see his face.
To me, firearms are just another inanimate tool, incapable of doing anything outside of human intervention.
Like automobiles: I was crippled for life by a drunk driver August 19, 2011. I lost my right leg and half the use of my right arm, yet I still operate motor vehicles.
I have also been a law enforcement officer, and if anything has resulted from the experience of losing a son, it is that I am even more resolute to see gun criminals brought to justice.