20 of you. You didn’t know you weren’t going home. You didn’t know you would be in pain, that you would feel what it was to die. You didn’t get to say goodbye, the real goodbye.
There’s a lot you didn’t get to do. You were only 6 years old, most of you. You were shy, and just beginning to flower. You were good, inside and out, no matter what anyone said. You were someone’s joy from the moment you woke up til the time they read you a story and tucked you into bed.
That school, the one you died in, that school loved you too. Those teachers wanted nothing but the best for you. You were the reason they came in every day. You were the reason they loved what they did. They came to see you smile. To gain your trust. To teach you that there is a bright wide world out there with so many mysteries to unravel. To teach you to love to unravel those mysteries. They came to help you grow stronger.
I hope in those few years you had to be here with us that someone made you smile. Someone made you feel loved. I hope you had a friend that you chased around your yard, giggling as if there was nothing to life but a good laugh.
I hope you made believe you could fly, at least once, because once you can make believe you are flying, you ARE flying. Once you imagine yourself amazing, you are amazing. You can do anything.
I hope someone told you you were a good dancer. A good car racer. A runner. Drawer. I hope someone told you were special whether they had a reason or not, because you are.
I hope that at some point in your life, you felt like a rock star. Because you are.
We lost 20 something rock stars today. But we won’t forget them. And we won’t give up. We won’t lose hope. And with all of you angels in the sky, we’ll live on.