How witnessing my mom's murder changed my life.

At the age of 11, on July 11, 1997, I witnessed the robbery of my mother. She was shot and killed in front of my sister and I. On that day,  my childhood was stolen and  my family was tore apart. I went from a happy little girl with a bubbly personality to a confused and scared adolescent who learned  how to wear mask to cover up the pain that I felt from within.  The night my mom was killed was the last time I would share a home with my family. This moment was the last time my mom, dad, my sisters and  I would be together. This was the last memory of the home we shared together. This was the moment that would changed our lives forever.