Nearly a month later, memories of the April 29 event felt distant to Sanchez, a 42-year-old mother of two who works at a local beauty school.
Grief and disappointment ensued, and prayers replaced the laughter that once echoed throughout the city, on the edge of a town 80 miles west of San Antonio. Since Tuesday, residents have been gathering every day to mourn after grief erupted in what feels like almost every household in the city of about 16,000.
In downtown Uwalde, two of America’s longest federal highways – U.S. Highway 83 and U.S. Highway 90 – intersect just as many families are feeling this week. In one corner, portraits of high school seniors are lined up on the lawn in front of the town hall. On another corner, flowers were placed next to white crosses with the names of each of the 21 victims on Tuesday along the fountain in the town square.
“It was something that should never have happened,” Sanchez said. “Our prayers are with everyone, because wherever I go, everyone is affected whether you have a child there or not. If you’re not, it’s your fault, because you can go home and feel happy with your family when you know they’re never going to be the same. “
“We run in packs”
Wearing maroon clothes in Uwalde is not uncommon. But the number of people wearing the city’s colors multiplied during the week and gained new significance.
For decades, parents, abuel and children filled the stands at Honey Bowl Stadium each fall to applaud the Uvalde Coyotes during Friday night’s football games. After farmers and ranchers return home from the fields and many businesses are closed, residents routinely head to the stadium to watch one of their favorite pastimes.
As Uwalde tries to find solace after Tuesday’s shooting, Marie Alice Ramos says she could not tell her friends or family anything to make them feel better. Wearing her maroon T-shirt, she says, signaled something indescribable.
“This is a statement. It shows that we are trying to be united in a community that is devastated, “said the 45-year-old bartender after she and a group of family members, all dressed in brown, stood near Rob Elementary School. late wednesday.
“We run in packs. Coyotes run in packs,” said one of her cousins, Jessica Ahoyt, who stood beside her as she hugged her daughter.
Ahoyt’s daughter then added, “Once a coyote, always a coyote.”
Ramos’ cousin Irma Garcia, one of the teachers killed in the shooting, was Uvalde High Coyote 30 years ago.
The words “Howling thru ’92” and an image of a coyote howling at the moon blaze on the cover of Garcia’s high school yearbook. Its pages show her and her husband Joe in the first years of their love story.
A few days after his wife was killed, Joe Garcia suffered a heart attack and died. In a GoFundMe campaign published by another cousin of Irma Garcia, family members said they “really believe” that Joe died of a broken heart and that losing the love of his life is “too much to bear.”
For more than two decades, Garcia has dedicated his time to his own children and those of others. She fed them, hoping that one day they would go to college.
“Her commitment to children at school has gone beyond, to another level. “She made the greatest sacrifice anyone could make there,” Ramos said. “She’s a real hero.”
Uwalde Strong
Surrounded by centuries-old oak trees, three or four generations of Mexican American families have lived in the same homes – often filled with the aroma of grilled carneada asada on weekends and the sound of Tejano, country, band and other Spanish-language music.
Summer is perfect for tubing in some of the cleanest rivers in Texas – nearby Nueses, Frio and Sabinal. And year-round weekends are reserved for hours of hiking in Garner State Park, shopping in San Antonio and celebrations such as quinceañeras and weddings.
But many of those plans were canceled this weekend as daily life was shattered.
Graduates in hats and dresses walked the halls of Rob Elementary School on Monday with their younger siblings, nieces and nephews, applauding for them. The rest of their activities for the last week have been suspended, including their graduation.
As families waited for answers about their children’s condition on Tuesday and later faced devastating news, Uwalde people initially huddled at home to pray with loved ones or simply stay close to each other.
But hours later, many said they were becoming restless and began looking for ways to support their neighbors as the city began the grueling process of burying the 21 victims. By Thursday, the remains of the victims were placed in funeral homes, where family members had left clothes and other items for the funeral.
A family built wooden crosses for each of the victims and delivered them to Rob Elementary School. Hundreds waited for hours in the heat of Texas to donate blood. Several people designed works of art for new chestnut T-shirts, similar to those seen in other communities after the mass shooting.
“Uvalde Strong,” the T-shirts wrote.
Omar Rodriguez, owner of a car business, has prepared 250 burgers to raise money for the victims’ families. On his Maine Street friend’s plot, Rodriguez set up a large grill, tables, and cooking supplies while family and friends grabbed rags and soap to wash donation cars.
Rodriguez says he can’t stay home, thinking there may be something to help.
“It’s a good little town. There’s nothing here but love,” said the 24-year-old.
“Our babies”
Two words come up repeatedly in conversations as people grabbed a tacos for breakfast at the Stripes store, served food and drink at a popular Mexican restaurant, or bought carne guisada meat at the HEB grocery store.
“Our babies,” residents said. To them, the children killed at Rob Elementary School were just a family.
Lucia Guedeya, a 53-year-old urban worker in Uwalde, says most, if not all, residents have had an affair with the victims. They went to school together or were classmates with their parents, knew their grandparents, or watched them play soccer, basketball, softball, or soccer with their own children.
“They (the children) are the center of our activities here,” Guedea said.
Earlier this week, Guedea’s 11-year-old daughter, Raquel, and 20 other children walked the path of Sacred Heart Catholic Church. In silence, they held a single red rose while a priest called out the names of the victims:
Eva Mireles
America Joe Garza
Xavier Javier Lopez
Uzzia Garcia
Jose Flores Jr.
Alexandria “Lexi” Rubio
Irma Garcia
Eliana “Eli” Garcia
Anabel Guadalupe Rodriguez
Tess Marie Mata
Eliahana “Elijah” Cruz Torres
Neve Bravo
Jacqueline Jaylan Casares
Jaila Nicole Silgero
Makena Lee Elrod
Jace Carmelo Luevanos
Alicia Ramirez
Leila Salazar
Have Rodriguez
Rogelio Torres
Maranda Mathis
“I believe that the children, the children, will help us get the job done,” said Archbishop Gustavo Garcia-Siler of the Archdiocese of San Antonio at the end of the bilingual liturgy.
After the liturgy, Guedea said her daughter did not attend Robb Elementary, but wanted to make sure she was fulfilling her role.
“I was happy to be able to like their honor and their spirit,” Raquel said.
Four of the children killed and one teacher are members of the parish.
In the days after the massacre, parents in Uwalde held their children’s hands and pushed their prams to visit the school, attended vigils and prayed at religious services. Faith is a cure that the inhabitants hope will guide them through their grief.
At the site of an impromptu memorial, they brought their children to meet comforting dogs and get free cuts (snow cones) distributed by people from nearby towns.
A 10-year-old girl attending Rob Elementary School held her father’s hand tightly and said nothing when a woman who had set up a table in town square with care and stuffed animal packages first told her she could take everything you want.
It wasn’t until her father encouraged her that she grabbed a unicorn. He said he missed work because he had to be close to his daughter, who is very shy and lost a cousin in the shooting.
In a city where life revolves around its youngest residents, festivals and social events always have something to entertain children in the absence of places like Peter Piper Pizza or Chuck E. Cheese, says Sanchez, an employee at the beauty school.
Society is torn between the mourning of those whose lives have been interrupted and attempts to erase the grief that the massacre has brought to the faces of their children. Locals like Sanchez say it will take time for them to heal, but they know that their “babies” will encourage them to do so from heaven or earth.
“What we really live for is our children. We get up every day, we go to work and that’s basically to do something better for them. That’s what makes us keep going, honest with God,” Sanchez said. .
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