On a day like any other, April 20, 1999 became a defining moment in U.S. history, and perhaps the world. In a moment of madness, our lives changed. Time stood still and our hearts were broken.
Each of us has a story of that day. It is often shared when asked to recall “where were you when ” The stories are personal reflections that we’ve shared in public venues at times, but knowing much of what we saw and experienced can’t be articulated with clarity. So, the stories become nothing more than a series of memories, to be remembered and recalled in our own solitary way.
On a day like any other, April 20, 2009 marks a milestone, a decade since darkness and fear flooded a thriving school and a vibrant community. It also heralds a triumph of sorts, as each year the light of healing extends further into the shadows of sadness.
Anniversaries often invoke memories of snapshots in our life. The Columbine High School tragedy is more than a snapshot. It is a full-length feature.
At this time of year it gets stuck on rewind, and we find ourselves fighting an internal tug-of-war with emotions – fear, sadness, anger and resolve – while the reel plays over and over.
We wait for the credits to roll to signal the end, but there are no credits, just images, and sounds, and smells. Funny how all the senses come into play when the subconscious overtakes our conscious thought.
Mostly, though, there’s an emptiness the clichéd “pit in the stomach” feeling, the very real knot in the throat, where we try to swallow to release its grip and fight to hold back what we know will be a flood of tears.
On a day like any other, we will remember. We must. Many of us made that promise as a lasting tribute to never forget, because unfortunately, time has a way of washing away memories. Maybe time is the natural ointment to heal our wounded souls.
The faces and the stories of those 12 beautiful children and incredible teacher touched our lives, not because we knew them personally, but because of the innocence lost and potential for what they would become. We got to know them through their families’ personal reflections, the loved ones who shouldered the unimaginable weight of pain and grief.
On a day like any other, we will remember the broken hearts and fractured lives left to mend and seek answers to fleeting questions. The ones marked by emotional and physical scars.
Those who wrestle with the guilt of surviving and forgiving. Those who must find a sanctuary of peace and comfort over the loss of a child, a brother, a sister, a friend, or a father and husband.
And, those who valiantly pushed aside the darkness that threatened to overcome them to come back to teach and lead, and by doing so, demonstrated that good does overcome evil.
On this day, I will give thanks for those who banded together to help us put shattered lives, a school and a community back together, who bore the brunt of intense criticism for shielding students and staff from the crush of media, and for establishing a professional standard that humanized a profession long thought to only “spin the good news.”
On this day, when reflection often brings us sadness, we will especially remember Cassie, Steven, Corey, Kelly, Matt, Daniel M., Daniel R., Rachel, Isaiah, John, Lauren, Kyle, and Coach Dave. They touched our lives. May their memory be a symbol of hope for us all.
Rick J. Kaufman is the former executive director of Public Engagement and Communications for Jeffco Public Schools. He was one of the Crisis Response team leaders to the Columbine High School tragedy. He is currently the executive director of Community Relations and Emergency Management for the Bloomington (MN) Public Schools. EDITOR’S NOTE: This is an online-only column and has not been edited.
