Happy 12th birthday, my little love. I celebrate you today—and every day–here on Earth, knowing that you are alive in heaven.
I imagine you playing with so many of your friends and favorite teachers, eating cupcakes and pizza, and living a life more full than I can imagine.
I miss your kisses and snuggles, your hysterical belly laughter, and how you pestered your big sisters–and your daddy–without mercy.
I miss you. So much.
Life is not easy without you here…but as I promised you once, I won’t give up.
I will love openly, share generously, speak boldly, and walk bravely—toward a better, safer, and more compassionate world.
Do not worry. I am not alone. Many good people walk with me.
I keep all of your gifts close to my heart. I use them to heal our family and in service to others. Your gifts continue to prosper, making schools safer, providing for families with autism, and reminding others of God’s presence in their lives.
You continue to make your mark on this world—and the next. I am sure.
I still hear your sweet voice and feel your warm presence. I know that you are with me in all that I do.
My love for you is like yours for me. Always.
As another community reels from tragedy, terror, and grief, many of us are at a loss of our own: What should we say? What do we do? How can we help?
We too are in shock. We grieve for these families and this community. We want them to know that we care. That what they are suffering is unacceptable to us.
So, many of us send thoughts and prayers–some of us quietly, in front of the news unfolding on TV, as we wake or climb into bed, in our homes or houses of worship. Others take to the airwaves, social media, and vigils to send support in the form of thoughts and prayers.
Is this wrong? Is it presumptuous? Is it “not enough?”
The truth is, it’s not for us to decide. Ours is to offer and wait.
There’s a reason our nation has taken to the time-honored tradition of offering thoughts and prayers in times of suffering and loss. We are a nation of many beliefs and different faiths, but we are all American. We care deeply.
What’s more, the offer of thoughts and prayers is a simple one, a quiet gift that requires absolutely nothing of the recipient. A gesture that says we see you. We care about you. We send our love and support from near and far, in the only way we know how.
Today some people argue that thoughts and prayers are not enough. That now is a time for action. In the weeks and months following the tragedy in my community this was the case for some. For our families, it was not.
We are all different.
Perhaps for some in the community of Aztec, New Mexico, rising up and making change at once will be the way. For others, giving back or finding faith will help. Some will choose a quiet retreat, some will focus on family, and others will return to work right away. People will choose a path of their own. Few will carry on in the same way or in the same time.
For our families “thoughts and prayers” made all the difference.
Our daughters were murdered nearly five years ago, along with 19 of their first grade classmates and 6 of their beloved teachers at Sandy Hook School. The thoughts and prayers of our friends, family, and strangers sustained us like nothing else could.
We took your love in its many forms––your cards and works of art, your poems and songs, your afghans and quilts, gifts, donations, and lovingly baked lasagnas, each making its own kind of difference. Yet it was the steady stream of thought and prayer that buoyed us through the long nights, heart-breaking decisions, and harsh realities that we had no choice but to face.
We felt your love and it made a difference.
The simple offer of thoughts and prayers meant that we needed only to receive, that we could reserve what energy we had to bear the weight of our loss, knowing that many good people stood beside us, waiting for us to determine the way forward from our deeply personal losses.
When the thought of taking another breath or moving another step was overwhelming, this simple gesture meant the world to us. We were not alone.
We cannot know with any certainty how our thoughts and prayers will be received by these families, or this community, or the next; but one thing is certain: Taking the time to think of and pray for them before taking action may better prepare us to listen and follow their lead, to respect their unique wishes, needs, and individual journeys forward.
Though we may never come to know a soul from Aztec, New Mexico, we know the power and beauty of the thoughts and prayers of others, so we openly choose to send ours. We know for some, they will make all the difference.
To the families, friends, and community of Aztec we send our thoughts and prayers.
May God bless you.
Michele Gay and Alissa Parker, Founders of Safe and Sound Schools
What inspired you to write and share your story?
The shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School affected so many people, and I felt like there was this whole other side to the story no one even knows about. Losing my daughter Emilie completely paralyzed me. I felt such a great loss. In my search to find and understand my daughter’s “new life,” if you will, I was able to also find forgiveness and peace. Sharing that journey with the world was not an easy decision, but I felt like it was the right thing to do.
This book is incredibly personal, filled with private, painful, but also very precious memories of you and your family. Throughout the process of writing this book, what did you learn about yourself?
I learned a lot actually. When I began writing, I had no idea what story I was going to tell through my experiences. I knew that we had had many unique experiences that were important our family and I wanted to record them for my young daughters. But as the story began to unfold on paper and I began to connect the dots, I saw for the first time the whole story. I was stunned. The picture before me was so beautiful! To see how all the pieces connected together was amazing. I felt very humbled by the many blessings our family had been given and how far we had come in the years following Emilie’s death.
In the book, we learn from Emilie that “Everything is connected!” This is one of the themes in your book. Can you talk about the connection between forgiveness and healing? What role has forgiveness played in your journey of healing?
In the beginning, forgiveness wasn’t even something I was thinking about. I wanted to focus on my family and our healing, and the forgiveness part would come later. But, of course that is not what happened. I found that healing and forgiveness went hand and hand and I couldn’t do one without the other.
After Sandy Hook, you reveal that you struggled with your identity, the idea of being defined by tragedy. How important has this book been in helping you own your story, in helping you define you and/or your family’s identity?
Emilie was so much more than the tragedy at Sandy Hook. Her life was full of color and light! I did not want her identity to be defined by someone else’s actions. This story gives people a look at the whole picture of what her life looked like, before and after.
You share many sweet stories of Emilie. It paints a colorful picture of Emilie’s personality. We learn that she was and continues to be a source of inspiration for many. How do you want your daughter to be remembered?
I guess I would want her remembered the way our family remembers her. As a chatty, colorful, messy, caring, emotionally sensitive little girl that always put others before her. She was a loving leader and playmate to her sisters, and an example of Christ-like love to my husband and me.
How did you decide what stories you wanted to share and what stories you wanted to keep private for you and your family?
Oh, there is a whole additional book of stories we didn’t end up using for the book. Some were by choice and some just didn’t fit the main thesis of the book. This is Emilie’s story and we had to use that as a guide to decided what stories needed to be told.
For those who haven’t read the book, what are some of the themes readers can look forward to?
I hope people walk away understanding how connected we all are to the ones we love and that those connections are never truly lost. There is a lot of hope in knowing that. In the darkest of times, it can be hard to see the light. I learned through this experience that the light is all around us, we just have to choose to let it in.
What do you hope people will take away from An Unseen Angel ?
There is so much despair and darkness associated with the shooting at Sandy Hook and I hope this story will show people the other side. The side that can inspire us to look at the world in a different way… the way Emilie saw it. It’s a world full of color and hope and above all else, goodness.
Alissa Parker is the mother of one of the 20 children who died tragically in the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, in 2012. After Emilie’s death, Alissa began TheParkerFive blog as a tool to express the emotions she and her family experienced throughout the grieving process. She is also the cofounder of the Emilie Parker Art Connection, a charity helping local community arts programs for children, and Safe and Sound Schools, a touring national advocacy group that helps people take action to make schools safe.