We Can't Forget
4.20.1999. Do you remember the day? Do you remember where you were? Do you remember how you felt? I remember. I was in 6th grade. My friend's mom was picking me up from school. I can still see where her car was parked. I remember getting into the car and hearing the radio broadcasters talking about a shooting. In a high school. Not far from the car in which I was sitting. I remember going home and turning on the news. I remember the images. Students running from their school, hands held up in the air, blood on the cafeteria floor. I remember the chaos. I remember feeling confused and I remember the moment when that confusion turned into fear. I asked to sleep in my mom's bed and I remember begging her to let me stay home from school the next day. If two boys could walk into their high school and savagely murder their fellow students and teachers, what would stop anyone from coming into my school and doing the same? I remember thinking that my school didn't have doors, windows or walls; There would be nowhere to hide. I remember how the world got quiet. The moments of silence. The images of kids not much older than me, dreaming of their futures - going off to college, starting careers, building their families - innocent, young, beautiful lives ended in the blink of an eye with the strike of a bullet. I remember the memorials, the flowers and crosses, the groups of students and families huddling together, sobbing, mourning the loss of 13 lives gone too soon. I remember after a time, we all went back to our normal lives. But for me, the fear that arose in me on that April night, never really went away. For several subsequent years, on the anniversary of that horrific day, I would once again find myself begging my mom to let me stay home. I remember finishing high school thinking, "I made it. I didn't get shot". I felt a little bit safer.
And then I remember a morning many years later, waking up to texts from my family asking if I was safe. Confused, I turned on the TV only to see the news of another shooting. In a movie theater. Just miles from the bed where I laid. I wrote about that day too, processing the grief for the lives lost, but once again feeling that familiar feeling of fear. I remember thinking nowhere is safe. Again, I remember the moments of silence, the memorials, the images, the going back to our lives. But once again, the fear stuck. Even now, every time I walk into a movie theater, I immediately look for the exits and suspiciously watch when someone gets up, holding my breath, a knot in my stomach until the movie ends and we all safely leave. But that day, with that fear, I thought, "Ok, this has to stop this time. This has to be the end".
12.14.2012. I dropped my own kindergartener off at school while a gunman entered an elementary school on the opposite side of the country and ended the lives of an entire class of babies the same age as my own. I remember collapsing, sobbing, grieving. I remember picking up my son and squeezing him tight knowing that there were so many parents who would not be able to do the same that night. Yet again, the images, the memorials and yes, the fear. But this time I remember feeling something else. Anger. It wasn't enough that we had to be scared for the high schools, the colleges, the movie theaters, the malls, the churches, but now the elementary schools? How can the leaders of the free world continue to allow this to happen? When is enough enough?
When COVID hit and the schools shut down, to be honest, I felt a little piece of relief. Relief that, for a brief period of time, I would not have to worry and wonder if when I drop my baby off at school, will I be able to pick him up at the end of the day? This is not freedom. The reality is that this is happening every single day in every corner of this country. And there are only so many memories we can hold and so many layers of fear we can continue to build up before the weight of the world crushes us.
Last week, feeling emotional about the prospect of my little (ok, not so little) boy leaving the school where he's spent the last 9 years of his life and adventuring into his next chapter of high school, tragedy struck yet again. As the news alerts came through on my phone, I immediately shouted some expletives. HOW IS THIS HAPPENING AGAIN? Nineteen beautiful babies and their two beautiful teachers gunned down in the face of evil. 21 more families not being able to hug their loved ones that night. 21 more moments of silence. 21 more crosses. 21 more memorials. 21 more pictures of sweet, sweet faces dreaming of their futures. 21 more lives gone far too soon. I can't even pretend to know what those parents are feeling. I can't even try to imagine because it would probably cripple me. But as a parent myself, I know that in the world we live in, last Tuesday, their worst possible fear came true.
Now, some say it's a mental health issue and others say it's guns, but both can be true at the same time. And regardless of the side where you land, I see nothing being done about either. For the sake of using my voice, I'll tell you where I stand. Do I believe mental health is an issue? Yes I do. Do I think we need a better healthcare system to support those suffering from mental health disorders? Yep! Do I believe that we need to have better tools and support systems in place for troubled kids who feel bullied, neglected, abused and alone? Absolutely. But do I also believe that we have a gun problem in this country? 100%! Do I think that an 18 year old should be able to buy a gun on his 18th birthday, no questions asked? Hell no! You can't drink or buy weed until you're 21, you can't rent a car until you're 25, you can be on your parents' health insurance until you're 26. There is absolutely no reason you should be able to buy a gun when you're 18. But I digress. Do I believe that any normal civilian needs a weapon of war, designed to kill, like an AR-15? No, I certainly do not. Do I believe that we need to have tighter gun restrictions in place, universal background checks, training, licensing and insurance of guns, red flag laws? Yes, I most certainly do.
Look, you might not agree with me. But I think we can all agree that our children should not be scared to go to school, we as parents should not be afraid to drop them off, our teachers should not be afraid to go to work, our elderly should not be afraid to go to the grocery store, our friends should not be afraid to go to concerts, our families should not be afraid to go to the movies. We deserve to feel safe and we deserve to believe that our leaders are doing everything in their power, not simply thinking and praying, but listening to their constituents and doing the actual work to make sure that our safety is a priority. Laws need to be changed. Action needs to be taken. Preventative measures need to be put in place. In the words of Whitney Houston, "I believe the children are our future", but what future do our children have if they aren't guaranteed that they will survive past recess? We need to come together on this. If not for our babies, then who for?
The fear that developed inside of me 23 years ago is still there and because of every event that's followed in its footsteps and since becoming a mother myself, that fear takes up permanent residence. But along with the fear stands a sadness, an anger, a determination and a drive to do something. It's certain that in the near future more tragedies will ensue, more damage will be done, more families will mourn, more crosses will be erected, more political fights will be had and we will just keep going back to our lives with a little more fear, praying it's not our own families that are struck next. But I'll continue to remember where I was, how I felt and the images I saw. I'll continue to honor the lives lost and I'll continue to fight in the ways I know how because at some point, if we keep remembering and we keep fighting, this has to stop. Right?