The “sweetest” holiday of the year is forever memorialized as the anniversary of the murders at Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Seventeen were lost that day, seventeen who stood no chance against an evil person armed with assault guns. Each and every person had an incredible story to tell, a life to live, a right to be…and yet, one young man decided to be the executioner and make his horrific voice be heard.
This is not a message about gun control, because you do not need me to tell you that we need to take a stand and shout from the rooftops that our Founding Fathers did not intend for us to “bear arms” to annihilate young people at school. And this is not even a message about mental illness, which has to exist in these mass murders psyche, or they could not pull the trigger to hurt others, or to play “judge and jury” in their need to punish or gain ground over others.
This is a message about the broken hearts of the parents and families who suffer each and every day, who will never know peace again in their lives. I want to tell you about two of them, and the emotions that are front and center in my mind as I write. Fred Guttenberg is the father of Jaime, a beautiful dancer, killed at 14 years old. He has been a vocal activist against gun violence. He has been described as one of the strongest voices for change to gun laws in the wake of the mass shooting. Fred could remain frustrated and defeated, ignored and left to do nothing but mourn. But instead, he unveiled a dance room for kids of all abilities dedicated in Jaime’s honor. He said he “feels Jaime in the room” and will be spending a lot of time there. He picked up the shroud of anguish and wrapped it around a physical property where he can say the things to his daughter he would have told her as she grew older.
Lori Alhadeff lost her darling daughter, Alyssa, also fourteen, last Valentine’s Day, as well. A soccer player, Alyssa was known for her amazing personality, and for giving her best in everything she did. Like Jaime, she had an amazing future, she was full of passion and determination. The loss Lori feels is so palpable, I am certain, every day, every hour, every minute. I was, however, unable to breathe last week when CNN Anchor Brooke Baldwin read a letter during her program, written by Lori to Alyssa on the first anniversary of her death. There were so many powerful feelings that any parent would find painful beyond words. But the most painful to me was when Lori said that a mother is supposed to protect her child, and although Alyssa is no longer here to be protected, she still feels that need. Oh, my goodness, how much I understand that overwhelming feeling. I have it every time I think of my daughters, grown and mothers, themselves! How must it be for Lori, for Fred, for countless others? How do they quell the nerve endings that reach from every pore, and how do they walk into life and feel whole again? My heart is broken for them, for their pain, for their unrequited love, for their desperation to make it better so other parents do not have to pay the price they did. When will it end? When will we learn?