Sandy Hook parents remember their children before the massacre
NEWTOWN, Conn. — People around the world paused Wednesday to remember the massacre that took place 10 years ago at Sandy Hook Elementary School, where 26 people — including 20 children, all of them between 6 and 7 years old — were killed in one of the deadliest shootings in U.S. history.
But for the parents and families of those killed on Dec. 14, 2012, the horrific events of that day are not what they like remembering. It’s memories of the days and weeks before — the last with their children alive — that they cherish.
Ahead of the 10th anniversary of the killings, Yahoo News spoke with several parents of slain Sandy Hook students to collect remembrances of their last days. Those recollections are below, in their own words, edited only for clarity.
Mark Barden, father of 7-year-old Daniel Barden and co-founder of Sandy Hook Promise
I have a trove of memories that I hold on to of the week before. The Friday before, I took Daniel to get his hair cut, and it was in the evening. So we were the only two people in the room, and the barber was doing his work on little Daniel’s hair, and I picked up one of those magazines in the basket. And I opened it up to a story about a house fire in Stamford from a few years before at Christmas time, when three little kids perished. And I was just overwhelmed. I put the magazine down and I had to be physically near him in the barber chair. I was like hovering around him. I could not survive losing a child. And then I remember during that week, Daniel was with me and we took [my daughter] Natalie to her piano lesson. We were listening to Christmas music in the car, and we were singing along and then I realized it was very quiet in the back, and I looked in the mirror. Daniel was quietly staring out the window, tears coming down his little cheeks, and before I said anything I realized what was playing. It was a Christmas song about a little boy whose mother is terminally ill and he's buying her shoes so she'll be pretty when she meets him. He was identifying with these lyrics, and it was typical of Daniel's for that compassion to show through. The night before, I played a gig, and I kissed them all in their little beds when I came home.
That morning — we had three kids in three different schools at that time — and they would be on three different buses [within] an hour. And so I was walking [my son] James to the first one at 6:30 in the morning, and I hear little footsteps running up behind us. Daniel had gotten up on his own and had these little flip-flops on, shorts, Yankees pajamas. And it's freezing out. I'm like, “What are you doing outside?” He goes, “I want to come to the bus with you and James so I can hug James and tell him I love him," which was sweet and beautiful and very Daniel. I said, “All right. We don't have much time, so just get on my shoulders.” So we walked James to the bus, and we got back in the house, and I said, “You know, it's still early if you want to go back to bed.” And he said, “No, Dad, this just gives us some time for cuddles.” So we're wrestling on the couch and he said, “Look how beautiful the sunrise is this morning.” You could see the reflection of our Christmas tree lights in that window with the sunrise behind it. And I'm thinking it's beautiful that the 7-year-old kid notices those things. And he asked me to show him something on the piano, and we learned how to play “Jingle Bells.” So I'm not even — I won't even say spiritual. I'm certainly not religious. But it was a very deep and interesting coincidence that he had to spend those last little moments with his siblings and us.
Nicole Hockley, mother of 6-year-old Dylan Hockley and co-founder of Sandy Hook Promise
It was just a normal Thursday. I sat with Dylan at dinner. We were going to a Christmas party that Saturday night. So after dinner, I was at a friend's house trying on dresses, beautiful little cocktail dresses. I was significantly thinner then, and just having a nice night out with the girls — trying on dresses, drinking wine, just figuring out what dress to wear to the party. When I got back, the kids were already in bed. And it's bizarre because the way the shock hits you on Saturday morning, the day after the shooting, I remember thinking, are we still supposed to go to this party tonight? Obviously, the party was canceled. But I was just in this state of shock.
Alissa Parker, mother of 6-year-old Emilie Parker and co-founder of Safe and Sound Schools
Late in the afternoon on Dec. 13, our whole family was in our craft room hanging out while I worked on measuring fabric for some Christmas pajamas I wanted to make for the girls. Somewhere, Emilie and Madeline rummaged up a box of old VCR tapes and found a copy of the one-act plays from my senior year in high school. I directed one of the plays, and [my husband] Robbie was the lead in another. They got such a kick out of watching a younger and very lanky version of Robbie during his performance. Afterward, while everyone else was watching one of the other acts, Emilie came and sat next to me at the craft table.
“Mom,” she said with a concerned tone, “I think we need to help cheer Dad up.”
“Why would Dad need cheering up?” I asked, always impressed with Emilie’s sense of intuition and compassion.
“Well, on the walk back from the bus stop, Dad told me that one of his favorite players from the Texas Rangers is going to play for another team. He said he was sad about it.”
Emilie had been to a Rangers game in Boston a few months earlier and was well aware of Robbie’s love for his hometown team. Her sincerity won me over and I asked if she had anything in mind.
She said, “Well, I think we should surprise him and go out to dinner tonight.” And that is exactly what we did. The entire Parker family went out to dinner on a school night, for no other reason than that Emilie felt it was necessary to cheer her dad up when she felt that he was feeling sad. I am so grateful our last family dinner together is associated with a special memory that demonstrates so perfectly what was inside Emilie’s heart every day and how she shared that with the world around her.
Michelle Gay, mother of 7-year-old Josephine Gay and co-founder of Safe and Sound Schools
It was a busy Thursday. I had been Christmas shopping and making last-minute arrangements for Joey's birthday party, which was set for Saturday, while the girls were at school. We had just held the annual holiday choral event at the high school and at Sandy Hook school earlier in the week. Joey was excitedly pointing and smiling at her sister, Marie, then a 4th grader, [who was] singing. Spirits were high. The holidays were a big deal in Newtown.
That evening, when the girls were all home, I was frantically trying to snap some good photos for our Christmas card. I got some special ones of the girls together that I will treasure forever, though, of course, we never sent cards out. My husband was working his new job in Massachusetts that week, so I got the girls tucked in that night and curled up on the couch to watch a little TV. But Joey wouldn't have it. She kept calling for me. I eventually gave in and tucked in with her for the night, wrapping my arms around her until we both fell asleep. I'm forever grateful that I did.
Jenny Hubbard, mother of 6-year-old Catherine Hubbard and founder of the Catherine Violet Hubbard Animal Sanctuary
The day before Dec. 14 was energized. It was filled with excitement and just eager anticipation. My two kids were supercharged because we were 12 days out from Christmas and my husband at the time was in Europe, so he had been gone all week and he was going to be coming home on Friday. So it was this sort of, like, excitement on steroids. They were just beside themselves. And I had gotten Catherine a new pair of boots that had little bells on them.
And so I like to say she jingled all the way to the bus stop. Like literally skipped so she could hear these things jingling. That night, Catherine had an activity back at the school. She was a little Daisy Scout, and we had made the walls for what would be our gingerbread house. I remember the kids going to bed exhausted but also exhilarated. After I put them down, I had to catch my breath thinking just how really fortunate I was. I was living a great life.
