A Solemn Vigil

I was there. On Tuesday, June 18 a day of solemn remembrance was planned for the plaza in front of the State Capital in Concord. The No More Names Bus, which had started a 25 state journey on Friday, June 14th in Newtown, CT on the 6 month anniversary of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary, arrived in the morning for a day of events commemorating the over 6100 gun deaths since December 14. I arrived at 9:30, and the names were being read by members of the clergy. I was immediately struck by how dignified and solemn the reading of the names was. I have unfortunately been to a few memorial services recently, and there was no mistaking that this was such an observance. Those of us in attendance, waiting our turn to read, stood quietly by, talking in hushed voices. We hugged each other as we arrived, and exchanged knowing looks. Wow, this is tougher than we thought. Unlike a memorial service, the sounds of the city intruded. It was a fitting contrast. We have paused to remember, while so many have continued on, unknowing or uncaring. It made the reading of names take on a poignant, almost defiant edge.  The reading continued. My turn came. I approached the podium, not a practiced public speaker, but firmly resolved to do right by the victims of gun violence. The names were arranged thus: Name, Age, "killed by a gun," date, place. Next line, Name, Age, "killed by a gun," date, place. Sometimes it was name unknown or place unknown or both. These are names culled from news reports across the country. There is no national database of people killed with guns. I assured myself, this is going well. My voice is clear and people can hear me. Then, I see the name of the first child, grit my teeth and read it clearly. OK, I can do this. I hesitate a couple of more times. Children's names are tough. A couple of times, it's the name of an elderly person, followed by another elderly person who must be their spouse. A murder-suicide? Keep going, remember that the victims deserve a dignified tribute.  I see a friend arrive just as I am midway through the last page of my first reading. I realize I am reading the names of those killed on Christmas Day. In my mind, it becomes "killed by a gun, on Christmas Day," but I don't allow myself to editorialize out loud. Then, just then, I see the name and age just two spots from the end of my last page. It's a ten year old boy, killed on Christmas Day. That is tough, really tough. I finish, and gladly let someone else take over for a while. I encourage other people waiting their turn. It's tough, but you can get through it. Just be angry enough for the victims to keep your voice firm and clear. Speak for them. When my turn comes again, it has been a while, and we have only made it to January 20th. This is one of the messages of such a simple, solemn gesture. The reality of these deaths has real weight and volume. Paying them proper respect takes time and effort. But we are taught a lesson by this slow, plodding memorial. Our time is nothing compared to the time lost by these victims, the time that their families will spend mourning and healing. So, stop feeling sorry for yourself and keep reading. Another page, this goes pretty smoothly. Then, the impossible. I read the name of a man, then notice the next victim is a woman with the same last name. I pause, and I am punched in the gut, hard. The next 3 names are their children, ages 9, 5 and, Dear God, Oh, Dear God age 2. This isn't about me, keep reading, I tell myself. But I struggle. I look up and I see the faces of my friends and other attendees, pain in their eyes, too. I struggle more. I take a deep breath. Then another. I can do this, they deserve to be remembered. With a few more cracks in my voice, I finished the remaining three quarters of the page. At least I think I did. I must have, because I reached the end, but that last part is blurry. I was done. Literally. I hope I did justice to all the victims. Alfreddie Gipson is the name of the ten year old boy killed on Christmas Day, 2012. Greg Griego, 51, his wife, Sarah Griego, 40, and three of their children: a 9-year-old boy, Zephania Griego, and daughters Jael Griego, 5, and Angelina Griego, 2 were the names of the family killed on January 20, 2013.