Tom Tom was my mom’s youngest brother. He was always jumping into the fun and having a good time.
Then, he had a bad day. I ask myself: If he didn’t have access to a gun, would he still be here? Unfortunately, he had a firearm that day. He shot himself in the head and died. I see now that he wasn’t the only victim of gun violence that day. Something in my mom, my family, died that day with him.
After his death, his name became hush. We avoided talking about him and what happened. On his birthday every year, my mom quietly mourns her baby brother, alone. I think it’s shame and the taboo of suicide that keeps her from sharing her pain and letting us support her.
Four years ago, my mom called me to tell me she loved me and to say goodbye to my infant son. She was passed out next to an empty bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of liquor. It was her wakeup call. I am grateful that on her bad day, she didn’t have access to a gun.