I was eight years old when my father was shot and killed. I threw myself into basketball because it made me feel connected to him. Basketball ultimately became my therapy. It gave me an outlet and a way to hold on to a connection that mattered to me.
There was no shortage of love and support that my family showed me. They spent time with me and supported me. Looking back, I also wonder what it would have meant to have someone outside my family to talk to. Someone who could help me understand my feelings while the adults I loved were dealing with their own hurt.
That is why I believe our response to gun violence must include ongoing emotional support for the children who lose a parent. That support should continue into adulthood, because the loss leaves a void many people don’t understand. Families need help making that support available, even when a child appears to be doing well.
When we talk about gun violence, prevention and accountability deserve attention, but we also need to ask what happens to the children afterward. Who checks on them? Who gives them room to talk about their deceased parent? Who follows up after the immediate response ends?
The National Child Traumatic Stress Network explains that children experiencing traumatic grief may struggle with concentration, sleep, and learning. Some may withdraw or act as though they are not upset. These reactions can be misunderstood by the adults around them. This does not mean every grieving child develops traumatic grief. It means we need to pay attention to what a child may be carrying beneath the surface.
Looking back, I would have valued being asked how I was doing with the loss of my dad or what I thought about it. A question like that could have opened a conversation. Having a neutral person to speak with could have given me another place to be honest about whatever I was feeling.
The American Academy of Pediatrics, through HealthyChildren.org, cautions that children may keep their grief to themselves because they worry about making their parents or other loved ones feel worse. It encourages adults to invite conversation and keep offering support when children are not ready to talk.
That matters because the adults are grieving, too. A family can be loving and attentive while struggling to process the same death. Giving a child access to a counselor can support that family and create space for conversations that may be difficult at home.
Some people may reasonably argue that children heal through family, faith, sports, and community, and that counseling should not be assumed necessary for every child. I understand that perspective. Basketball was meaningful in my own life, and I value the love my family gave me.
Still, children deserve options, and those options can include counseling and peer grief support. Dougy Center provides groups where young people can share their experiences with others who have experienced a death. Its peer support is distinct from individual therapy, offering another way for children to find connection and understanding.
Schools, youth programs, and community organizations should establish a clear process for helping families find affordable grief support after a parent is killed. That process should include private check-ins, referrals, and follow-up over time. Families should also receive support for their own grief.
We can begin by asking a child how they are doing and making room for an honest answer. We can remember their parent with them. We can keep showing up without requiring them to explain everything before they are ready.
I cannot say exactly how counseling would have changed my experience. I can say that I would have valued another outlet to explore my feelings.
Beyond the gunshot, there is a child whose life has changed. Our care for that child must continue.
“This is part of why I started Sweet Rebound, to give girls the outlet basketball gave me.”