Tribute to Gilbert Terry

My father died at 49. He never knew six of his seven grandchildren. He never knew his eldest child completed four college degrees and became an ordained minister. He never knew he had four great-grandchildren. So much he never knew when he was shot and killed two days after his 49th birthday. He never visited the homes in which we lived, the businesses we ran, or read the things we published, or saw the things we crafted. If there had been no gun in his home, he would not have died such a violent death.