I remember June 11, 2012 like it was yesterday… The weather was great, it was the last day of 9th grade and I was so happy and ready to start my summer. I just saw you the day before when you and grandma were arguing about where your sneakers were. It was the next day and nobody had heard from you. You didn’t even go back home last night and you went out without your backpack. You never go out without it which was a red flag, but we didn’t want to jump to conclusions and think the worse. We all knew something wasn’t right and something was off, we felt it in our stomach’s. As me and my mom are in the nail salon drying our nails, we have family members calling all around looking for you then my mom got the call as she’s drying her nails… They had your body at the morgue. My uncle who has been there since the day I was born is no longer with us. At this point, my mom is in the middle of the nail salon screaming and balling out in tears, because her brother was murdered the night before. All I could do was hold and comfort her while I was just as hurt, but my mom has always been there for me. I had to put myself aside and be there for her. Only 11 years apart in age, my uncle and I have always been close which made June 11, 2012 one of the worst days of my young life. He was the last of his siblings to have a child, my grandma waited so long. Only for him to be taken away from his daughter when she was only six months old, and just days before his 24th birthday and his first father’s day. My uncle spent his life helping raise his nieces and nephews and was unable to raise his own child. I got a sleeve tattooed in remembrance of my uncle and even got his exact signature and his portrait tattooed on my back because he has always had my back. Home isn't always a place, it can be a person. The person who helped shape you and help you become who you are today.
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