Six years ago she was getting her last hour of sleep. She would wake up and get ready for work just like it was any other day.
I am grateful to know that she was so happy that morning, playing jokes on her colleague, helping to get a coffee stain out of a sweater
I am grateful to know that she was so happy that morning, playing jokes on her colleague, helping to get a coffee stain out of a sweater
returning a perfectly folded scarf that she borrowed to wear to the winter concert the night before.
Her morning at work would start out like any other. Busy, efficient. She did not know that the PPT meeting would be her last. She heard a noise and silenced the room.
Her morning at work would start out like any other. Busy, efficient. She did not know that the PPT meeting would be her last. She heard a noise and silenced the room.
Was that gunshots? Holy shit, it was gunshots! She stood from her chair and walked towards the door of the conference room. She saw the shooter. She turned briefly to warn the others. “SHOOTER, STAY PUT!”
I wonder if she knew that those words would be her last. I wonder if she knew she would be killed for walking out of that room. I wonder what she thought in those seconds between being hit and death. Pain? The school? Her children? Mom? Grandchildren?
Did she think there was hope for her survival? It was just after? just before? 10am when I got a breaking news alert on my phone from NBC. “SHOOTING AT SANDY HOOK” I called my sister, she was shopping at Target with two of her children, Charlie, 2 and Alyson, 6 months.
I don’t remember much of our conversation. I know she convinced me to meet her at her house. My brother-in-law, Ryan, was home in a flash to take care of the kids, Tina and I were frantically trying to gather information.
The news was on. A woman, a parent maybe, told a reporter that the principal had been shot. Ryan threw the remote at the couch when he heard those words. Tina was in disbelief. I heard a scream. Tina was scrambling to get the batteries back in the remote to rewind the tv
it’s not possible that they just said our mother was shot. I then realized that the scream came from me. I was on the ground. In what felt like seconds, Tina and I were in my car on our way to the school. I think she made me stop at the end of the road to let her drive.
I was a mess. Tina, somehow, was holding it together. I was leaving voicemails for teachers that I knew, on the school’s answering machine. No response. Tina called our cousin, MaryAnn, she needed to go take care of Aly. She had never drank from a bottle, Ryan would need help.
She would have to go buy her first formula Did she know what kind? Did Tina tell her? I am guessing no. MaryAnn would just know. We knew would be gone for a long time. It was during that call, that I saw my sister, who is the strongest and most stoic person I know, breakdown.
We drove there with hope, Mom was just making sure all of the kids are safe. She will call back. Maybe she was just grazed, we will meet her at the hospital. She will recover. I knew, but did not want to admit, that my world was about to come crashing down. So much more happened.
Too difficult to write. I was able, almost, to keep myself in a state of denial. Then there were these words:
Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung.
Age 47
Cause of Death: Multiple Gunshot Wounds
Age 47
Cause of Death: Multiple Gunshot Wounds
Six years ago, my mother’s life, along with 25 others, were stolen from this world.
Six years ago, my life was changed forever. I still do not believe that there is “healing” from a trauma like this. You just learn to survive. For six years, I have survived.
