On November 13th, I found myself in the company of twenty to thirty dedicated volunteers from Moms Demand Action, gathered to celebrate my latest project, a book I co-edited with Taylor Grant, titled If I Don’t Make It, I Love You: Survivors in the Aftermath of School Shootings. This book shares the powerful narratives of 83 individuals who have lived through the horrors of school shootings. I was particularly honored to have with me Alex Rivera, a survivor of the tragic events at Columbine, who has since become a passionate advocate for gun legislation and support for those affected by gun violence. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, set in a cozy independent bookstore tucked away in Northeast Philadelphia, where we exchanged stories of survival and resilience.
Being surrounded by fellow gun violence prevention advocates during this project has been a source of comfort for me, particularly as it consumed nearly two years of my life. While I always hope to change minds, the stories within our book are deeply sacred, and my co-editor and I feel a strong sense of responsibility to the survivors whose experiences we are sharing.
After sharing several impactful stories from the book, including those from Parkland and Sandy Hook, we mingled with attendees, signing copies and exchanging heartfelt hugs. As the crowd began to disperse into the cool autumn night, there were promises to reconvene soon. Yet, beneath those promises lay a haunting awareness that we might meet again much sooner, driven by the next inevitable school shooting. It was a chilling thought that none of us anticipated would materialize the very next day.
The following day, while visiting Benjamin Franklin’s historic home with my mother, my phone buzzed incessantly with incoming messages. The familiar and dreaded phrase “another school shooting” appeared on my screen, and my heart sank. How could this happen again? I thought we had just addressed this the night before.
My mother and I hurried back to our hotel, where I turned on the news to cover the Santa Clarita shooting. Once again, I saw young faces marked by trauma, the footage showing students walking in lines, connected by shoulders, as the number of casualties grew. I closed my eyes and thought of my twin daughters, who were miles away in a sixth-grade classroom. Were they safe? Did they know what was happening? I had a presentation scheduled that evening for another Moms Demand Action event in Haddonfield, New Jersey, and returning home was not an option. Anxiety gripped me, tears welled in my eyes, and a sense of panic rose within. I texted my partner, urging him to give our girls extra love that night, my heart aching for those parents affected by the shooting.
Since embarking on this book journey in January 2018, I have met many parents whose lives have been irrevocably altered by gun violence. I know their stories of unanswered texts, unfinished homework, and the agonizing waits in parking lots and morgues. These experiences haunt me daily. Each time I hug my girls or kiss their foreheads as they drift off to sleep, I am acutely aware of those who can no longer do the same.
On that day, as I prepared for my next event with Moms Demand Action volunteers, I thought about the new families in Santa Clarita who were now forced to join a tragic community of survivors that no one wants to be a part of. A wave of anger washed over me, and I was left wondering when this cycle of violence would end. I contemplated canceling the event, but then I remembered the stories of the survivors we represented. They were counting on me—so I pressed on.
The event in Haddonfield took place in a large church, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the seats fill quickly. A fellow survivor, Lisa Hartman, was there to share her story. Her son, who survived a shooting at Virginia Tech, had recently earned his PhD—a proud moment she was eager to discuss. When she arrived, I could sense the weight of her experience. I asked if she was okay, and she replied, “I’ll be okay.”
My presentation began somewhat awkwardly; I struggled to recall the contents of my slides, feeling a lump in my throat as a heavy silence enveloped the room. Then, I displayed the images of those whose lives were tragically cut short: Emilie Parker, Daniel Barden, Nick Dworet, Nicole Hadley, and Dave Sanders. I felt the magnitude of my responsibility to honor their memories, and it guided me through the rest of the presentation.
To conclude, I chose to read an excerpt about my experiences working on this book, particularly focusing on the Sandy Hook community, which inspired my commitment to gun violence prevention. As I read, the tears I had been holding back fell freely. I heard someone scrambling for a tissue, and soon the room was filled with soft sobs, including my mother’s familiar cries. As we collectively mourned for those affected by violence across the nation, the atmosphere shifted to one of resolve.
Afterward, the room filled with hugs, tears transforming into a renewed determination to combat gun violence. An elderly woman approached me, offering an embroidered handkerchief she had made. “I carry these for anyone who needs them,” she said. I joined Jody at a table where we signed numerous books and conversed with attendees. A group of nursing students, aware of the trauma they witness in their field, bought copies of the book, eager to learn and advocate.
At the conclusion of each event, I remind everyone to read the stories in our book and carry them into their battles. While these narratives may be heavy, they are powerful. That night in Haddonfield, amidst the backdrop of the latest school shooting, I saw a group of people ready to bear that weight.
As we drove back over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, I realized that despite the anxiety and difficulty of the day, I was exactly where I needed to be. Back at the hotel, I called my daughters. “I love you” felt insufficient, but it was all I had. I was doing this for them. Two hundred miles felt like an eternity separating us.
In summary, the experience of sharing stories of gun violence survivors during a gathering was overshadowed by the heartbreaking reality of yet another school shooting. The emotional toll of these events is profound, yet within the community, there is a strong resolve to advocate for change and support each other through grief. By writing and sharing these stories, we aim to foster awareness and motivate action against gun violence.