As a grief expert and mother who’s lost two adult children to horrific diseases, people have suggested I write about the issue of school shootings. I must admit I’ve been avoiding doing that. Like most people in this country, I have been suffering from what mental health professionals call, “compassion fatigue.” It has felt like too many and too much – too many shootings, too often, too many children dying, too many mothers crying, AND no light at the end of the tunnel. But this one is different. I discovered a glimmer of hope inside my own breaking heart, and I’m eager to share it.
The teenagers involved in the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting were not born yet when the first shooting at Columbine High School happened in 1999. Literally, throughout their entire lives, they have heard about school shooting, seen the videos and photos of the carnage, and experienced the adults’ helplessness throughout the years and aftermaths. So the natural shock and disbelief phase was over quickly. They knew what was happening and they knew why. Somebody who shouldn’t have had access to a gun got one. And not just a handgun, or a hunting rifle, but an assault-style weapon, whose only purpose in design is to take out lots of enemy combatants in a war
Anger kicked in quickly, producing the adrenalin energy necessary to take action. Here we see demonstrations of super-human strength and courage. While students banded together to run for their lives or huddled together in closets and locked classroom, sometimes photography the unfolding events on their cell phones, two teachers stood between the bullets and bodies of the students, giving up their lives in the process.
Still in the clothes they had put on that morning, these young victims greeted the media with clear voices of righteous anger. “We’re kids. You adults need to DO something!” Holding protest signs that indicated their sophistication with the issue, “Guns don’t kill people, legislators do!” they sent clear messages that they weren’t going to abide by the usual “this isn’t the time to talk about it” message that has prevailed after other mass shootings. Hearing the articulate student spokespeople – that was my first glimmer of hope moment.
The usual spontaneous shrines sprung up at the site, and all over the country, as they always do honoring the lives of the fallen and the sorrow of these left behind. These makeshift sculptures were
displayed at schools were shootings have occurred and on campuses hoping not be next. These art pieces honoring the spirit of mourning send the messages that they always send,“ We share your sorrow. We stand with you.” But this time I heard another message. “We too will not stand for another one of these atrocities.”
The tradition of honoring the deceased by taking action to ensure that others do not suffer the same pain is well established in the grief recovery literature. Mothers Against Drunk Drivers (MADD) happened when a single mother lost a daughter to a drunk driver, when a sister died of breast cancer, the Susan B Kolman Foundation began. My prayer to the universe when one of my children was diagnosed with cancer began in anger, ”What good can come from this?” Eventually the song became a plea, a hope “Good could come from this?” Then it became a promise, and a pledge, I have lived to carry out – “GOOD WILL come from this.”
Stay tuned to how these kids and their supporters will insure that GOOD WILL come from this and from all the past episodes of gun violence. The teens and adult supporters have already charted a bus and shown up in their state capital. They are on a sacred mission to do what a democracy must always do, balance the rights of the majority and the minority, the hunters and the teachers, the parents and the police. This is imperative if we are to remain the UNITED States of America. I intend to be a part of the bargaining phase that has just begun anew.
