Dear Ashley, Lauren, Jackie, Audrey, Stephanie, Rachel, Matthew, Cyrena, Declan and Brandon–
You interviewed and photographed each other with love, compassion and empathy. You taught me a little more about grief and loss, joy and feeling seen.
Isn’t it what we are here for—to help each other?
You tell me that day 10 years ago feels like yesterday or a lifetime ago depending on the situation.
That the guilt of being here while others aren’t can overwhelm you.
The world has heard your story. With us you shared your story in your own words, to each other.
I’d like to share with you my observations of our time together.
One thing is clear: You all feel older than 17.
And they way you see the world feels more mature than I ever was at your age.
To Cyrena and Sarah:
It’s morning, You’re our first pair, and I wonder if this is going to work.
Sarah, you chuckle about the phrase: time heals all wounds.
You struggl with a different kind of guilt: on that day you stayed home sick.
Cyrena, when you tell Sarah that your feelings are valid and you hope she has the strength to not feel guilty anymore.
To Lauren and Ashley:
Lauren, you tell us it’s ok to cry.
You live deeply because you made it and so many didn’t yet you also fear no one will ever really know you.
Ashley, you told Lauren that if you could give her anything, it would be a rock.
You hold your hand high and invert your wrist, like a waiter would with a tray—we all imagine this rock in your hand.
This rock– you say– would be something Lauren can pull out whenever she feels she needs strength, stability or security.
I shake my head, wondering how you learned to be generous and empathetic. You answer my question in the next breath
“When you go through something like Sandy Hook,” you say. “We’re just different.”
Lauren, you reciprocate:
“I’d give you a microphone,” you say. “So more people can hear your voice.”
If only we all could have Rocks and Microphones
To Jackie and Audrey:
Jackie, you tell us how Charlotte loved animals and that when there are 20 seats empty next year at graduation, one of them will be hers.
You wear the names of the lost lives on your wrist.
The way you move through the world won’t be easy. When 10 years becomes 20 and 20 becomes 30, it will continue to be hard.
Just remember when it gets hard, you have people like Audrey who said this about you:
“You are a shining beam of light.”
Audrey when you speak, it's like a cross between a professor and monk.
Inquisitive and calm, your voice never raises even when you tell about the moment you learn about the Uvalde shooting in Texas.
“In my soul, I knew something happened and I cried and cried for them because I was them when I was only a few years old. I wanted to hug them and hold them and tell them that your trauma is valid and you are valid as a person. You will survive.”
To end, Jackie wishes you could be a kid again, to have childlike wonder, to keep writing and speaking your elegant and thoughtful words.
To Rachel and Matthew:
You don’t know each other.
By the end, your smiles and similarities are clear: a passion for children, dreams to both enter pediatric medicine, and a shared love for chocolate croissants.
Rachel: you smile brightly through the entire day, even when you tell us how much of your trauma you internalize.
Your conviction when you say only the person who carries the weight of trauma can deal with it.
You say you’re ok, with who this experience has made you.
It won’t and doesn’t define you.
Besides, you’ve entered the dancing queen phase of your life.
To Declan and Brandon:
Declan, you might not know this but you’re the last person to say yes to us..
And I get it, for the last 10 years each of you have had your story told for you. So when my producer says you’re going to come to give our 10th and final pair, she also tells me, “And Declan nicely asks whether he can talk about God.”
“Of course,” I say.
What I’ve realized in my own journey is that whether one believes in God, doesn’t or somewhere in between whatever you believe it’s a way for us to move through life.
We are, after all, on a rock traveling through space and a nuclear fireball has been given the most innocent name—The Sun!
Towards the end of the interview Declan you say, “sometimes I feel like I’m alive because of a coin flip. The shooter went left and I was in the classroom on the right.”
Brandon, your ability in this moment to acknowledge what a difficult thing that has been for you to cope with these past ten years too.
We get to stand here today,” you say. “And we will honor the memories we carry with us.”
Thank you for sharing your story with us.
Sincerely,
Robert X Fogarty
Dear World Founder
Prtrait Process Designer