Victors, Not Victims

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Ten years ago today, the massacre at Columbine High School took place.

I will admit that I approached this day not entirely sure what to say about that event — or what has happened in the decade since 13 people were murdered and their murderers committed suicide in that school in Littleton, Colo.

But, little by little, it has crystallized in my mind.

The Denver Post reports that Colorado lawmakers say the school has triumphed over tragedy. In fact, that is the name of a resolution that was passed by Colorado's legislature earlier today — "Columbine High School Triumph over Tragedy."

And a few hours ago, I was listening to the radio, and one of the young people who was injured on that day was the subject of discussion. That young man, they were saying, recovered from his wounds. He is now in his 20s and working in financial services. Apparently, he has been asked about that day many times, which comes as no surprise. And he has frequently told people that he "chose to be a victor, not a victim."

That's probably the best way to approach this anniversary, although, as the Post reports, the grief lingers for many.

Even so, the Post also reports on how a video tape helped ease the suffering of the family of one of the casualties.

As someone who has lived through the sudden death of a close family member — in my case, it was my mother — I could relate to the sentiments that were expressed by Sue Petrone, the mother of a 15–year–old boy who was killed on that April day in 1999.

"I'm happy, but I don't know that I will ever experience true joy, and I miss Danny, and I miss that part of me," she told the Post reporter, who elaborated that Petrone "wants to get to a better place, but it scares her."

Petrone told the reporter, "Part of me is like, if I let that go, does that mean I don't love him, or don't love him as much as I once did, or, God forbid, I am forgetting him?"

Those are familiar sentiments for me. But they remind me of a conversation I had with my mother once when things weren't going well in my life. I don't remember what the problem was now. Mom's been gone for nearly 14 years, and this conversation took place several years before the flash flood that killed her.

But I will always remember the end of the conversation.

Mom said, "I want you to promise me that you're not going to give up."

I was probably in my 20s at the time. I don't recall having any intention of giving up, but, with the belligerence that is often a hallmark of youth, I replied, "Why shouldn't I?" I guess, at the time, I needed a reason.

And Mom looked me in the eye and said, "Because I said so, and I'm your mother."

So I suppose that what I would tell Petrone and the other families is not to worry about forgetting their loved ones. In a way, it's inevitable that you may forget some details with the passage of time, but that doesn't mean, as Petrone fears, that your love has lessened in any way.

The dead at Columbine, like my mother, would want their families to go forward with their lives. They would feel bad if they thought that they weren't remembered, and so it is entirely appropriate for those who survived that deadly day in Littleton 10 years ago to reflect on what happened, to remember those who died and then to proceed with their lives.

But those who died would feel worse if they thought that anyone they loved just stopped living because they had been gunned down in the halls of Columbine High School.