On June 22, 2018, I saw my son’s smiling face for the last time. We ate a meal together, and he left to go out with friends. My daughter and I walked him to the door. He smiled at me and told me he would be back early the next day. On June 23, I awoke to the police at my door at around 2 a.m. Brandon had been shot. My beautiful son, who’d just turned 25 in May, had been shot “multiple times” and died from his injuries. My hopes and dreams went with him.
My boy had finished his time in the Army National Guard. He was doing well at work and had been approved for a home loan. He wanted to start a family. All of our lives were turned upside down that night. In the blink of an eye, some unknown people shot him. Now my family and I are trying to pick up the pieces. Brandon owned a fire arm, and I am not opposed to Second Amendment rights, but there needs to be more gun control. That might not have saved my boy, but it would certainly spare a lot of other parents the same pain.