I was a victim advocate on scene at Columbine. It changed all of us. Those there and those who were not there. Those born and the left behind loved ones of those who died. This week my grandchildren’s school was canceled because of threats made by a want to be copycat Columbine killer. Our community, our children, our parents, our aunts and uncles, our elders, our lives again affected by the haunting memory of Columbine. That want to be copycat killer was a 19-year-old woman. A woman born after this terroristic act. Columbine changed generations. I speak to my family, my employees, my co-workers, strangers and friends about how to stay safe; physically, emotionally and spiritually. We are clothed in violence in this country. It’s heartbreaking and infuriating.
There is a place trauma, grief, loss, and violence takes many to. Many travel for a time and sometimes for eternity to the land of the lost. In that realm, there is a gaze of emptiness carried in the shattered soul of the eyes of living – if you can call it that. Psychologists may call it disassociation but, that word is too sterile for its haunting presence for those walking in the in-between place – between living and lost and lost and dead.
That vacant, haunting stare you can’t unsee – the same way you can’t unhear the soul’s wail when loss hit so hard it sucks the breath from your bones. Terror – trauma, the sweet metallic scent of blood and the pungent smell of death carry their own memories too. It all gets stuck in you like tiny pieces of shattered glass embedded in the skin of our hearts. Memory holds us collectively to Columbine.
This should have a singular memory. The last school shooting or mass shooting or act of such horrific violence. In the days, weeks, months, years and now decades following that day, I have prayed; prayed for the victims, for their families, for the first responders, for the advocates, for the medical personnel who fought for lives and limbs, for the therapists and clergy who have prayed for souls and for the community – our local community and the greater community – for our world.
After that day, I tried to find hope and goodness – I still do but, I no longer naively believe we are safe. Columbine, sadly, defined us – defined America – defined our lack of regard for our babies. Safety is an illusion. All that is left is the kind of war it leaves inside of us. We either fight for good or we fight against it.
Twenty years ago and today there is a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, an aunt, an uncle, a neighbor, a grandparent, a husband, wife or a friend who knows or will know the bloodied, soul-crushing pain of loss I fight, I advocate and I pray for them . . . for all I pray.
“For the dead and the living, we must bear witness Not only are we responsible for the memories of the dead, we are responsible for what we do with those memories.” (Elie Wiesel)