My son’s name is Gavin. Not was, but still is: Gavin. And I am his voice now. Gavin only got to be five years old for 12 short days. Ten years ago, one day after Thanksgiving, my son got hold of his daddy’s duty weapon. He shot himself in the face and passed away.
We as parents must keep these guns out of the reach of our children. I assumed I had the safest house, living with a police officer. But with the gun being locked, cocked and ready to rock, it took my son’s life in a matter of seconds. I mourn my child every day and now am fighting almost 19 months for a change in how we keep weapons. But it is a fight I cannot do alone. It’s too late for my child. But not for yours. Please think about it.