On April 1, 2020, my brother (25) was shot and killed in Chicago. He was just an artist up too late that night, when he went out for pizza and never made it home. He was an incredible artist, and his passion for painting was expressed everyday. He loved his sisters and mother and wasn’t ashamed to tell all his friends as a young man.
He was sensitive; inspired by Buddhism from a young age, he didn’t believe in violence. When he was 18, another young man tried to pick a fight with him. He stood there and took the blows from a man half as strong, stating, “I’m not going to fight you.” He was honorable: When he was 15, he worked day and night, two jobs, to give my single mother money to support his family. He was the most admirable man I will ever know, and he was taken way too soon. My heart will forever have a Lazlo-sized hole in it — one that cannot be filled. That night we lost one of the biggest personalities, who was destined to do indescribable good.