May 20, 2017, changed my life forever. What seemed to be a normal, beautiful Saturday in May turned to be every parent’s worst nightmare. My 12-year-old son asked to go play at a friend’s house, as he had done hundreds of times before. Then came the call, “There’s been an accident.” I was told that while playing in the basement of the friend’s home, one of the teens picked up a loaded .22 rifle that was behind a door. The teen thought it was a BB gun, and he even looked to see if it was loaded. When he did, he was unknowingly loading it. Playing around, he pointed it at my son and it discharged because he pulled the trigger.
My husband I were the responsible parents. We had taught our son gun safety, and had him in all of the safety classes we could find. Not to mention our own instruction and example. We did our part as parents—we prepared and taught our child about guns and gun safety. Our mistake that never crossed our minds was to ask other parents when our son went to their home: Did they have guns, and how were they stored? My son always had a smile and he had a generous heart for people. He never had an enemy, and he was loved by everyone he met!