Go to Uvalde, and you will find perspective

My wife, Teresa, and I decided we would go to Uvalde. To pay our respects and be with the community in their grief. To stand at the site and offer our own prayers. This horror took place in our own backyard. We didn’t know what else to do.

Our teenage daughter joined us, and my wife’s sister. We drove out on a Saturday, 11 days after the shooting. There was still a lot of activity at the Robb Elementary site. The atmosphere was subdued, respectful, somber. Bewildering, too.

But even in deep sadness, grace endured: Hundreds of mourners gathered in silent prayer.

A lovely old couple leading a small group in a rosary.

Uniformed law enforcement offering quiet support. Department of Public Safety troopers, local officials. Also, off-duty law enforcement and first responders. Police departments and fire departments from all over Texas, who traveled to pay their respects.

A smaller (by now) but still

evident media presence. They kept to the background, observing from a respectful distance. And carpeting the grounds — thousands of mementos and makeshift monuments that continue to be placed at the site.

And flowers. Hundreds of

thousands of flowers. Many fresh, some long since faded.

A powerful place. And a palpable tension. There was a similar, even larger hub of activity in the Town Square. An area of memorial and mourning, barely a mile from Robb Elementary. Flowers,

mementos, photographs. Just as at the school.

And people, of course. Hundreds of people.

Leaving the school, we considered stopping at the square, too. To view those memorials and offer our respects again. But by then we had taken in all we could bear. We did not stop. We just drove on.

As we headed back to San Antonio, I felt relief. Grateful for each mile I put between myself and that epicenter of pain. And I felt guilty for feeling that way. So many people impacted by this tragedy cannot simply drive away from it, as I could.

For so many, Uvalde will never leave them. It will always be part of their lives. A scar that may someday heal but will never stop hurting. Texans and all Americans are obliged to honor those who suffer that pain. We honor them by talking plainly about what matters to us and to our culture. To declare what we are or are not willing to do. To be clear in what sacrifices we are willing to make.

Go to Uvalde. Stand on that ground. The weight of unfathomable tragedy still hangs in the air. Be there for a moment and feel it. It sharpens perspective. It clarifies priorities. It will prepare us for the difficult conversations we must have.

Kin Man Hui/Staff photographer The atmosphere in Uvalde is subdued, respectful, somber. It’s a place of deep sadness and deep grace. Go there — and then declare what we are or are not willing to do.