Day After, Fourteen
I made a promise to write for fourteen days after “that day” on May 24, 2022. My goal was to convey what I have seen firsthand, heard secondhand, and felt with all my heart about that day. It is one thing to record the facts on a piece of paper. Another to use words to preserve the emotions for posterity. That is why I wanted to be a writer … to provide a safe place for the reader, you, to feel the emotions of the moment that I evoke with modest word choices.
Or to put it more simply … I want YOU to FEEL the story.
And so I decided to write about “that day.” Yesterday was two weeks since May 24th. I thought all the stories would be written by now, but I seriously underestimated how many stories twenty-one souls have to tell. Never mind the stories of Uvalde County, formed in 1856, covering 1,559 square miles, with a population of 26,846 people (the press always likes to report we are a town of 16,000 but since we are the largest town around, the county residents consider us home too).
I also thought maybe the media’s interest would run out of steam, but I didn’t consider the myriad of conspiracy theories, grandstanding (Mr. O’Rourke, remember?), and local law enforcement’s issues. Nor did I realize just how long it takes to lay twenty-one individuals (twenty-two counting Joe Garcia,) to rest in our small Hillcrest cemetery. I passed Hillcrest last Friday and saw one funeral in process, and two finished burials. And we will have burials into next week – sadly I keep running into funeral processions as I enter and leave town. A visual reminder of the finality of our losses.
But the reminder doesn’t stop there. Last night I dreamed I was trapped in one of the classrooms. It was dark but I wasn’t scared. I watched everything with a singular clarity. I mentioned my dream to the Library staff at work today. Max said he dreamt similar last night, but there were dark squares blocking his view. Lucy said she had that dream the first night, and it was vivid and nightmarish – horrible! Makes you wonder if we are all repeating the horror as a collective emotional nightmare (like a story by Stephen King). We weren’t there yet “that day” has invaded our nights when our guard is down.
But I shouldn’t be surprised of the emotional toll. I spoke with a city official today who said they spend a better part of the day counseling sobbing people on the phone who have called from outside our community. As the official said, “I would love to be counseled, but I am the one doing the counseling.” I told them we do that all day long at the Library. Someone calls, writes their angst on a card asking us to call them (truth), or stops by and we comfort them. We both concluded at this rate we are going to need a bigger timetable because fourteen days in not big enough to accommodate what is coming our way.
And what is coming our way? It is something new every day. This week we had a celebrity, a former resident, speaking to the country from the podium of the President’s own press secretary and advocate for stricter gun laws. A royal princess paid her respects at our plaza last week and then flew to the UK for the Queen’s 70th Jubilee. People ridiculed her for not following some of the protocols (she stepped in front of the Queen) but I still see her in jeans and a simple white shirt gracefully placing white roses on a child’s cross. The President and Mrs. Biden placed flowers too, at Robb Elementary, while pledging the federal government would help us build a new school, or at least help with funding.
Ah, yes, funding. Corporations are releasing their tight hold on their purse strings and directing specific monetary donations to Uvalde. I find this ironic as for years I have tried to get grants for our community or donations and very few – foundations, corporations, individual donors – were mildly interested. “To remote,” “not in our region,” “not enough people in need” even though our demographics are 74% Hispanic and 20% poverty level – almost one-fourth of the population in need.
And then “that day” happens, and everyone is wondering why we didn’t spend more on mental health counseling. Hello! Maybe it is because no one would grant us the funds. We cannot get the USDA to pay up on a publicly announced grant award of $400,000 ($140,000 grant/$260,000 small interest loan) for our boiler system and infrastructure at the Library. They have sat on the award for a year and a half sifting paperwork (the requirements change daily) while our Library staff and patrons froze in January and February because of poor heating. We cannot get the Federal Government to help us even when we qualify! (Note to UCISD: be sure to get that pledge for a new school in writing!)
Don’t forget the upcoming lawsuits, agencies pointing fingers (he said, she said), red herrings from those who like to mislead for profit, and conspiracy theories that are awaiting their time to shine in the media spotlight. It may get very ugly before it gets any better. But when I started writing I saw all the ugly truths, half-truths, and depressing lies – and I learn more every day – yet that was not my story to tell.
Truthfully, gentle reader, I want you to walk away with hope after reading my missives. To have the hope that we will get through the media storm, all the hogwash, and the crushing grief together. I want us to have joy again (especially the children) and peace (especially the families). We need hope today, tomorrow, and our future. As the Apostle Paul prayed during the persecutions, “May the God of Hope fill you with all Joy and Peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with Hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13.
And that is my prayer for you – may you overflow with Hope.
Thank you for the kind words I have received for writing these past fourteen days. I don’t think I can stop writing yet, just maybe not write as often. But these two weeks have been special. Not special because you read what I wrote, but special because we have gotten this far TOGETHER. And why are we together? You should know the “why” by now …
Because WE ARE #UvaldeStrong. We are #UVALDE.
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