‘It hurts me so bad that I am not able to see you, talk to you, touch you, or even just smell your scent,’ Shawnta Willis writes to her son, Antonie Lamar Moss Jr.

Editor’s note: Antonie Lamar Moss Jr., 19, and Jeremy Heglar, 16, were shot inside a car in Columbus, Ohio. Moss, nicknamed Fatman, died at the scene. Heglar succumbed to his injuries at a local hospital. Cayon Drake, 18 at the time of his arrest in April, pleaded not guilty to murder and other felony charges related to the slayings.

Shawnta Willis, Moss’ mom, penned this letter, which first published at The Columbus Dispatch. She is part of the nonprofit Mothers of Murdered Columbus Children.

Dear son,

I want to start by saying I love you and I will always love you.

There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. It’s hard for me to sit here and write this letter knowing the things I’m about to write are the things that I thought about over and over again.

I have honestly questioned myself about if I had something to do with you physically not being here anymore.

March 1, 2004, was the happiest day of my life. Nineteen years later, April 18, 2023, became the day that will haunt me forever.

It hurts me so bad that I am not able to see you, talk to you, touch you, or even just smell your scent.

Your sisters miss you dearly.

With you not being here there is a piece missing to what was once a perfect puzzle. When you were little, I did everything possible to shelter you from the negativity of the streets.

I did not allow you to play with toy guns or even play video game that had guns in them. I wrecked my brain wondering if that was a good idea, or did it just make you more curious later on in life.

Man, I wish you were here to answer.

I kept you active all year-round playing sports, just so you wouldn’t be bored or have idle time on your hands. I’m sure you would remember coming home not being able to go outside until your homework was complete.

I even went as far as sending you to a Christian school. I wish you were here to tell me when and where things went wrong.

No one is perfect and I know you did your best. I promise I tried my best, only to feel defeated in the end. We would talk daily about things that made you happy, or even things that may have bothered you.

I wish I could ask you what caused you to look at life differently as you got older.

I hate that I’m asking or writing all of these questions, only to get no response. It bothers me that you were only 19, you were still a kid with a lot more learning and growing to do.

Your life was not the only life that was cut short that night. That night two other kids’ lives were taken away as well.

I can only be honest with you, and that’s something you know I had no problem with doing. My life was shattered that night as well as others; it will never be the same.

Never in a million years would I have thought I would’ve had to see you (my one and only son), lying lifeless on a cold ground from night to early morning. At that moment authorities were unable to tell me if that was you or not. It is my job as a parent to protect you and that night I was unable to.

Moving forward, I made a vow to keep your name alive by telling your story, better yet “our story,” to other parents and kids.

I want them to know that when it comes to gun violence, there are no rules or exceptions. As the old folks would say, a bullet has no name on it.

Good, bad, right or wrong, guns kill.

I know that deep in my heart if you were still here you would answer these questions, and we would’ve worked together to change the narrative of our story.

With that being said, son I love you and I will forever scream “Fatman” until we meet again.

Love always, Mom.