Moving With Loss

There are some things in life we don’t move on from. Grief, I’ve come to realize, is one of those things. When we lose someone or something sacred to us, we don’t move on. Instead, we move with. We move with the remembrance of what matters to us, of what is worth advocating and worth living for.

I was in high school when my older brother became a victim and a survivor of gun violence. The night he got hurt I lost the ability to believe that gun violence couldn’t touch me or the people I love. I lost a layer of security that, as a young teenager, was fundamental to my sense of safety and wellbeing. I lost the ability to look away or move on from instances of gun violence and the role patriarchy plays in systems that profit from people’s pain.

For better and for worse, I have moved with the losses from that night for 30 years now. At times this has given me purpose. It has fueled me to be a more conscious parent and engaged citizen. Other times, like the recent mass shooting that killed 19 children and 2 teachers at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, it has given me pause.

As a mom of three school aged children, a WOC feeling the collective loss of too many of our own, and someone who has lived the nightmare of arriving at a crime scene where gun violence has occurred, there is no option to move on from the tragedy in Uvalde. There is only the choice to consciously and purposefully move with the remembrance of what matters. To move with the awareness of what is worth advocating and worth living for… peace, humanity, protecting our children, liberation, and healing.

Today I want to pause to name each child and teacher who died in the shooting at Robb Elementary. I want to make space to honor their unfinished stories.

Alexandria Aniyah Rubio, 10 . Alithia Ramirez, 10 . Amerie Jo Garza, 10 . Annabell Guadalupe Rodriguez, 10 . Eliahna “Ellie” Garcia, 9 . Eliahana Cruz Torres, 10 . Jackie Cazares, 9 . Jalia Nicole Silguero, 10 . Jayce Carmelo Luevanos, 10 . Jose Flores Jr., 10 . Layla Salazar, 10 . Makenna Lee Elrod, 10 . Maite Rodriguez, 10 . Maranda Matthis, 11 . Nevaeh Bravo, 10 . Rojelio Torres, 10 . Tess Marie Mata, 10 . Uziyah Garcia, 10 . Xavier Lopez, 10 . Eva Mireles, 44 . Irma Garcia, 48

I want to pause to also remember their grieving families, their communities, and the young survivors who have lost the ability to believe that gun violence can’t touch them.

In writing this, I have been reminded that there is no perfect way to grieve. Loss is messy and moments like these feel like the messiest. Yet, somewhere in the mess there is meaning. It seems to reveal itself when I’m not forcing myself to move on, but allowing myself to move and live with the remembrance of what matters.

Our children matter. Without them, we have no future. The meaning of this moment, for me, is to take purposeful action to advocate for their safety and their wellbeing. To use any privilege and power I have to mold a tomorrow that holds our humanity sacred and cares for the whole of who we are.

If you feel called to join me, here are a few places to start. Please do what speaks to you.

Learn the facts about gun violence in America

Stand with victims and survivors

Vote for the change you want to see in the world, and

Engage in conversations unpacking toxic masculinity and patriarchal systems that cause harm

Abrazos.