Losing my brother to gun violence while in prison has been the hardest and most challenging thing I’ve ever had to do. Usually I know all the right words to say, but my constant crying, the insurmountable pain, and the distance from my family make words hard to find. Where do I even begin? Never once did I imagine my life without him. It seems like yesterday when we were kids. I think about how we goofed off together. Like all siblings, we fought over the dumbest things. I think about the struggles we went through, but most importantly, how we always stood up for one another when it counted.

We all have the power and free will to choose good or evil, right or wrong. Eleven years ago I chose to commit a serious violent crime which landed me here in prison for 26 years. In addition, through my decision to cause harm, I paid the ultimate price of not only missing my daughters grow up, but I missed my brother’s funeral and deprived myself of the opportunity to grieve with my family and be there when they needed me most.

The poor choices and decisions my brother made out there in those streets cost him his life. My own bad choices brought me to prison, and now I get a glimpse of the pain I caused. I had flaws. I made some really bad decisions. Bad decisions that aren’t easily understood by others.

Today I understand the reason a lot of us make bad decisions, and the link is adverse childhood experiences. It took me coming to prison and losing everything to finally understand where my pain begins and ends, and to have the ability to empathize with others.

My childhood trauma caused a lot of pain. This is no excuse, but an explanation, as I went through life wanting the world around me to feel my pain. That’s how – like they say – “hurt people hurt people.”