My mind and life were completely changed one Sunday afternoon, when gunfire echoed through my neighborhood and blood was spilled in my literal front yard.
It’s impossible to prepare yourself for what it’s like to witness a murder. I never expected to be standing over the body of a stranger as he died from gunshot wounds. There’s simply no way to prepare for the trauma and turmoil that gun violence causes all of a sudden and in slow motion.
Since the day of the homicide, I’ve spent countless hours replaying the scene in my mind and wondering what I could have done differently to be a better help to the victim’s partner and children, who saw bullets rip through their dad’s flesh.
No one should die in this manner. I was forever changed by the bloodshed I witnessed, and our broken world often serves to remind me of the deep wounds I suffered, which are now scabs on my soul. Headlines or passing remarks or insensitive social media posts can scrape them open again, bringing rawness back to the surface. I am absolutely heartsick that our nation loses so many people to gun violence year after year.