So here’s my eulogy, of sorts, for the 27 people I never met, and who many people will never get the chance to:
I don’t pretend to know what your town is going through. I don’t have kids, and I don’t yet know what it’s like to have someone close to me pass away.
But I’ve shed tears for you. All of you.
You were shining stars in the eyes of the teachers who taught you and the students who were in your class. You are now heroes in the eyes of your family, friends, students, and now all of America.
You had your whole lives ahead of you. You were going to be teachers, doctors, lawyers, writers and artists. You were going to be husbands, wives, parents and grandparents. But someone’s anger took all of that away from you.
It’s not fair, what happened yesterday. Your families and friends now have to learn to live without you. They’ll wake up every day with a hole in their hearts because you’re not there. You won’t get to open the Christmas presents that were waiting under the tree for you.
But in a way, you’ll be there. You’ll be there every time your brothers and sisters smile. You’ll be there every time your parents think they can’t carry on. You’ll be there every time a child walks through the doors of Sandy Hook Elementary School. You’ll be watching wherever you’re needed, and that’s what we have to remember.
Charlotte, Daniel, Rachel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Dawn, Madeleine, Catherine, Chase, Nancy, Jesse, James, Grace, Anne, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Avielle, Lauren, Mary, Victoria, Benjamin and Allison. We’ll never forget.