As Lawrence’s mother, I had the extraordinary privilege of being a witness to all of the important milestones and the moments that shaped his young life: his first smile, first steps, first words, first day of school, first girlfriend. I was there and delighted in them all.
The only important moment of his life I missed was his last.
At 2:59 p.m., on June 21, 2022, Lawrence died on the street when a 16-year-old acquaintance brought a gun to a fistfight. I wasn’t there to hold him, ease his pain or say goodbye.
Everything I thought I knew about my future died with Lawrence that day. I won’t be able to help him get ready for prom. I won’t be able to watch him walk across the graduation stage. There will be no mother-son dance at his wedding, no moments of pride at the the man he would’ve become, no adorable grandbabies to spoil and no one to look after me when I grow old.
There is no part of me or my life that won’t be forever changed. Won’t be forever less. Because Lawrence will be palpably missing from every moment for the rest of my life.