Remembering Sandy Hook Ten Years Later

 

Sandy Hook Elementary School Memorial (NBC Connecticut)

It was a Friday.

Cold and sunny, as I recall, but my memory might be off.

I was getting ready to go out. There was holiday shopping to be done at Target and other places in Kingston, NY.

My phone buzzed.

Back then, my fellow "Press Box Playmakers" (Ryan Demaria, Chris Erway, and Chris Kaelin) had what we called "The World's Greatest Facebook Thread." On Messenger, we ripped on each other and on sports and life.

We argued. We yelled. We screamed. We ridiculed.

Yet, on this morning, I can still see the first message, and I'm pretty sure it was Ryan who posted it.

"Are you guys seeing what's going on in Newtown?"

Newtown, CT. We all knew the place. Nice town.

The early reports weren't truly heinous but they were concerning. A gun. Something bad.

My mind didn't think anything along the lines of Columbine in 1999. At least not at first.

Though troubled by what I was initially hearing, I still went along with the shopping trip. Yet there was something ominous in my brain, even as I bought a new iPad that I still have to this day.

I don't know why, but I felt guilty. Why was I out having a day like this?

Yet, really, what could I do?

By the time, honestly, I was in Kingston, NY at the Target location, the awfulness in Newtown was over. Only the reality was to be revealed.

I walked around a Marshall's store a few blocks from Target and leaned on a rack as I began to scroll Twitter. 

For me, Twitter wasn't anything near what it is today (and somehow it still exists. I thought evil Elon was supposed to have destroyed it by now). Yet, in my memory, that's a day that made it essential.

As I learned on the rack in Marshall's in Kingston, I bounced between the conversation with the Playmakers and looking at Twitter for info. Yes, that's a difficult balance since there can be so much wrong information. Indeed, I specifically remember a tweet mentioning a second shooter. 

But, eventually, the horrid news began to emerge. Twenty-six people dead. Six adults and 20 beautiful children.

Plus the mother of the killer and killer himself, who took his own life at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

Oh, some other details are out there as well. On the other hand, there is a lot that people are apparently never going to discuss out of respect for the families.

To this day, it doesn't make sense. Yes, mental health played a role. That seems obvious. Yes, guns should have never been in that family. 

This was a tragedy and that seems like too small of a word. It was a national story. It was a worldwide story.

It was also a hyper-local story. Newtown is a place I'm frequently driving through, especially in the days when I lived in Mahopac. I would pass through Sandy Hook on my way to my sister's or teaching at CSB along with games at Trumbull High School. 

Heck, going to Hartford or even Boston would send me along Interstate 84 and Exit 10 is seconds from the small downtown of Sandy Hook. Indeed, right near Sandy Hook Elementary School.

The sadness of that day remains so tangible. As a father of a then-10-year-old, I was certainly horrified. As a father who only got to see my son every other weekend, I hurt a little bit more. I wanted nothing more than a hug and to know he was OK.

He was, to be quite clear, fine. Still, it was a mental thing for me. Sean didn't have any of the communication he has with me now so calling him wasn't an easy option.

I'll always remember driving down the Taconic Parkway later in the day on Friday, Dec 14, 2012. I had to drive past the exit where Sean lived with his mother, as well as his elementary school. I knew I couldn't go to see him. 

I kept driving.

I remember just sitting at home that night feeling empty.

I remember watching TV as that's what I do during breaking news.

I remember yelling at "tough guy" journalist Anderson Cooper.

I remember just letting the iPad sit in its box, not caring about opening it.

It just didn't feel like the time. It could wait.

I remember that high school sports in Connecticut were starting the winter season that week and while much of the state postponed that night, a game or two (or more) actually did get played. I admit that didn't make much sense to me.

And I remember that, a few nights later, "The Press Box" would air on WGCH, giving the four of us the chance to just talk.

That's what we did. At the time, only Kato and I were fathers. Now all four of us are. Yet the sadness poured out for the unimaginable horror of that terrible Friday.

Twenty children.

Six adults.

First responders who saw things that nobody should ever have to see.

Are we better today? Slightly better? 

The disgusting people who actually thought the whole thing was some conspiracy? How did THAT help?

And, of course, Alex Jones. Say no more.

Ten years and all I feel is that same pit in my stomach. I'm reliving it as I write.

The names and faces are forever etched.

The playgrounds and memorials are built. The school has been rebuilt.

But, obviously, so much more was lost.

We've all moved on of course, though never forgetting. It's virtually impossible to do in Connecticut and even in New York, though we should never forget.

I watched a segment on a Sandy Hook survivor this morning courtesy of CBS. The young man, now 18, spoke eloquently of losing his sister that morning. He spoke of his love of hockey and how he plays at an elite boarding school.

That sent me into my own records. Turns out, I've covered Isaiah Márquez-Greene when Taft played at Brunswick, though he didn't play in that game.

Like anyone who survived, being a survivor does not define them and, if you watch and hear Isaiah speak, he has more grace than most of us will ever know.

Ten years.

I can only hope the families of all involved get through today with peace and the abundant love that they deserve.

(CNN)