Living in the Shadows of Gun Violence: A Harrowing Reality in America

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On a frigid February night in 1983, my life was irrevocably altered. While I was engrossed in the drama unfolding on Dynasty, a knock at the door shattered my focus. We weren’t expecting visitors, and a wave of dread washed over me. That dread intensified as I caught sight of my father’s face through the door’s window, framed by the oppressive darkness of the night.

At that time, my parents were embroiled in a bitter divorce, and my father, grappling with mental illness, was filled with rage and despair—he had nothing to lose. I felt relief when he moved out, particularly knowing his service weapon from the New York City Police Department was no longer in our home. That gun had loomed over me, a constant source of terror, and now, on this dreadful night, I feared it could be the last thing I ever encountered.

Driven by a misguided sense of daughterly duty, I opened the door. Without a word of affection, he pressed the cold metal of his gun against my forehead and asked, “Do you want to die first?” Those words have echoed hauntingly in my mind for decades, instilling panic that propelled me to flee.

In a desperate attempt to escape, I ran barefoot through the snow to my neighbor’s home, my shadow stark against the bright surface. They noticed my bare, cold feet and asked if I needed socks. Through trembling lips, I managed to explain, “My dad’s there. He has his gun.”

Fortunately, my neighbor was a police officer. He accompanied me back to our house, while his wife called for backup—the good guys. I couldn’t help but wonder why my father wasn’t one of them. Though no shots rang out, I was left in a state of frozen uncertainty, tormented by guilt for leaving my family behind.

We were fortunate to survive that night, yet the specter of gun violence lingers—a dark cloud that follows me. Even after my father’s death nearly a decade ago, his chilling words remain a part of my reality. Surviving gun violence leaves indelible scars, leading to persistent anxiety, shame, and trauma. The shadows of those experiences often obscure the joys of life.

You may find yourself connected to a growing community of survivors—each one knows that a gun is not a symbol of love. It takes lives and tears apart families, especially when it falls into the wrong hands. We must prioritize humanity over weapons, advocating for regulations that protect lives. Guns do not love, they do not nurture; they are adversaries.

“Do you want to die first?” No, Daddy. I want to live.

For more information on how to take action against violence, visit Moms Demand Action. Also, if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this excellent resource.

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In summary, living with the aftermath of gun violence is a profound struggle, impacting not just the individual, but entire families and communities. It’s a narrative shared by many, highlighting the urgent need for change and understanding.