The youngest of four sisters, she raised her son largely as a single mother in a modest home filled with sewing materials on the East Side. And now Celestine Chaney is one among them. Hundreds of lives have been claimed by these tragedies. Again, at a birthday celebration or outside a nightclub.ДЄgain, at church or an elementary school.ДЄgain, at a Tops Friendly Market in Buffalo where older Black neighbors congregate on slow weekend afternoons. Mass gun death is a signature American experience: shots after an argument at a party in the West, or within a single family in the South. His motherвЂ™s coffin was shut, and his eldest daughter, Kayla Jones, shook. And with his partner at his side, he finally allowed his tears to spill. In this moment, in Buffalo, hundreds of congregants dressed in Celestine ChaneyвЂ™s favorite pink extended their right hands to pray for her son, who would shepherd his family forward. Then, each family left behind must find its own path.

Inevitably, another tragedy arises in another city and attention fades. The deaths described at news conferences in police-report language, the deluge of donations and condolences - and the swiftly organized funerals. The bursts of voice mail messages from reporters, the infinitely repeated video on cable television. The mourning, whether in Buffalo or Laguna Woods, Calif., or Uvalde, Texas, has a now-familiar, frenetic, front-loaded cadence. In the United States, it has happened at least 214 times in this year alone: Shots ring out, and when the mayhem ends, at least four people are found dead or injured, meeting the cold, statistical definition of a mass shooting.

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