My uncle was in the streets and he died in them. On that fateful hot July 1st morning. My mom, my older brother and myself were enjoying family time bathing my at the time newborn baby brother, when someone began ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door. After we finally identified the person at the door and opened It.
It was a close family friend who delivered the news that my mom’s little brother had been killed in the Uptown neighborhood of Chicago’s North Side. And seeing my mom instantly break down due to that powerful overwhelming feeling of massive shock and grief, instantly changed my life. She was forced to process that her little brother whom she grew up with and protected, had been killed.