"Are you OK?"

Shayna Davis was often stunned when her son, Sir'Antonio Brown -- who still struggled to put his shoes on the right feet -- looked up at his loved ones and asked them this question.

The 6-year-old had an uncanny sense for when someone had fallen into a somber silence or was struggling through their day. But Davis now aches to hear his voice pose that simple question one more time.

"If he was to ask me that now, I would tell him, 'Yes, I am OK.' Because then I would be able to hear him or see him," the mother told CNN.

Just months shy of his kindergarten graduation, Sir'Antonio was shot and killed while playing outside his home in Kansas City, Kansas, on May 3, according to police. His family believes his uncle, who also was on the street, was the intended target. Two suspects in the shooting were arrested and charged with second-degree murder, but a third remains at large, according to Kansas City police.

Sir'Antonio is one of more than 1,300 children and teens killed by a gun so far in 2023 in the US, according to the Gun Violence Archive. Firearms became the No. 1 killer of children and teens in the US in 2020, surpassing motor vehicle accidents, which had long been the leading cause of death among America's youth.

"He was a kid who deserved to live," Sir'Antonio's cousin and godmother, Shyneisha Hill, said.

"Are you OK?" was more than just a question for Sir'Antonio, Hill said. "His actions showed it." He would make it his personal mission to lift a person's spirits with a tight hug, a grin or one of his many goofy jokes.

"He was the jokester in every room he went in -- from school to his sports teams to just being at home," Hill said. "He absolutely had a joke all the time."

Hill and her 7-year-old son, QJ, live just across the street from where Sir'Antonio lived with his mother and 10-year-old sister, Beautiful.

Sir'Antonio and QJ were "like brothers" and spent almost all of their days together, Hill said.

The two households' lives were closely intertwined as Beautiful and Sir'Antonio would meet QJ at the bus stop each morning so the trio could be shuttled off to school. In the afternoons, the boys would go to basketball or football practice together or spend hours playing outside in the neighborhood. And on Sundays, they would all file into Timothy Baptist Church, which the family has attended for decades.

If the sun was shining, Sir'Antonio and Beautiful couldn't stand to be inside, Davis said. Her son would use every last bit of daylight to ride his bike, jump on the trampoline, visit the park or team up with his sister to face off against their mom in basketball.

"It didn't matter if it was a soccer ball or a basketball. He has always kept a ball in his hand," Davis recalled.

Her son played as if he were invincible -- tussling roughly with his sister and fearlessly tearing down hills on his beloved bike, his mother said.

Despite being the youngest of the three children, Sir'Antonio was a natural "protector," Hill said. The 6-year-old would fiercely stand up for his sister and QJ, who she said is much quieter and more "laid back" than the "outgoing and outspoken" Sir'Antonio.

"He wanted to make sure they knew they had him. They didn't have to worry about anything," Hill said. "He was the youngest, but he was the most protective. He was the one that was ready to make sure that they were OK."

In the months since Sir'Antonio's death, returning to familiar activities has brought a twinge of pain, Hill said. QJ recently resumed football and basketball practice -- this time without his other half.

"Everything we do still reminds us of Sir because he was a big part of everything we did," she said.

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Among the many places filled with memories of Sir'Antonio is the family's church. Hill found it difficult to attend Sunday services there without her godson and briefly stopped attending.

"Just the whole experience brought back Sir," she said.

At Sir'Antonio's age, long-winded sermons quickly drained his attention span, leaving him to find any excuse to leave the pew for water or a bathroom break, Davis recalled.

But the moment the music began, he was completely captivated. He loved to dance to the resounding sounds of the choir -- often led in song by Hill's grandmother.

"Any time he hears a beat, he's going to move. That's just Sir," his mother said.

Sir'Antonio also eagerly awaited the moment he could add his savings to the church's "Change to Make a Change" donation jar. Each week, family members knew to hand over their spare change or bills to him before he excitedly ran up to pour his collection in the jar. When he was gifted over $100 for his birthday, he gave half of the money to the church, Hill said.

The jar that once brought him so much joy is now dedicated to Sir'Antonio, one of the countless ways his family and community have worked to sustain his memory.

Hundreds of community members -- many of them strangers to Sir'Antonio's family -- gathered for a balloon release vigil days after his death in May, according to Hill. Dozens more turned out in June for a memorial march where police escorted loved ones dressed in T-shirts emblazoned with Sir'Antonio's bright smile. Some chose to ride along on dirt bikes, one of the boy's favorite activities. And as the school year began in August, church leaders organized a backpack giveaway in Sir'Antonio's honor.

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Loved ones also regularly post memories of Sir'Antonio on Facebook under the hashtag #SirStrong, filling the thread with more than 1,000 remembrances of him -- and adding more and more by the day. Some also wear T-shirts printed with his signature question, "Are you OK?"

"We want to keep him alive," Hill said. "He deserves to be kept alive for as long as we possibly can."

Hill has organized a GoFundMe page to aid in funeral expenses and other family costs.

Sir'Antonio would have celebrated his 7th birthday on September 20. Instead, those who were honored to feel Sir'Antonio's love keep striving to spread the child's infectious spirit, even as they try to stay strong for each other.

"He was more of a support to us than we were to him," Hill said. "He had strength that we didn't believe a child should carry."