Dear Moms of Uvalde,
Our hearts are breaking for you. We are so, so sorry.
I’ve been trying to teach my children what it means to offer a heartfelt apology. I tell them it’s not enough to say “sorry” if you don’t really mean it, and it’s not enough if your behavior doesn’t change. We have this formula we practice: “I’m sorry for ____. It was wrong because _____. Next time, I will ______. Will you forgive me?”
So, here is what I want to say to you today:
I’m sorry nothing has changed in our country since this last time this happened, and I’m so sorry for the immeasurable loss you have suffered. It was wrong because we let our leaders be apathetic, selfish, and idle. Many days, we were that way too. From now on, we’ll stay focused. We’ll do our best to make sure this never happens again. We’ll demand more from our legislators and when they don’t follow-through, we’ll show up to the polls to let them know it is unacceptable.
What happened in your town today is unacceptable.
But any mom who has lost a child or feared the possibility knows that apologies, thoughts, and prayers are not enough.
Do you know about female elephants? When an elephant is giving birth, the other females in her herd surround her. They form a circle of protection and strength, warding off predators and giving that mama the time and space she needs. Do you feel us surrounding you now? We are reaching out our arms across the miles, sending every bit of love and collective strength we can muster. We want to hold you up, moms of Uvalde.
Over the next several days, we will learn your babies’ names. We will see their faces. We will hear their stories.
While we desperately wish we could hand them back to you, we promise you this: We will learn their names, we will listen to their stories, and we will not forget them. And we will get to work. We’ll think of you as we cook, as we launder, as we pick-up and drop-off, as we correct, as we teach, as we love. We’ll carry your children in our hearts, and we’ll let their memory spur us on toward love and action.
You rest. You grieve. You do whatever you need to do. Let us surround you. We’ll make the calls, we’ll demand change, and we’ll try to make sure this never happens again.
It’s not enough, we know. And we’re sorry.