Brent Rockswold is my nephew and the son of my younger sister, Faye Rockswold who shared her memories of Columbine in a previous post. He's also the same age as my son Nathan who was hunkered down with his classmates in the science wing at Columbine High School during the massacre.
These are some of his memories as a 14 year old when that massacre took place.
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| Brent Rockswold |
Brent....in his own words:
In April of 1999 I was a pretty regular fifteen-year-old boy. Having grown up in a small town I had always been pretty sheltered and as a result I was mostly concerned with things that affected me directly.
On April 20th I walked into homeroom and a friend asked if I had heard about a shooting that had happened at Columbine High School.
My first thought: "I don't know where that is. It's probably in New York or LA, things like this happen there all the time."
The rest of class went on normally. As I was walking out my frantic sister, Jill stopped me.
Jill: "Did you hear about Columbine?"
Brent: "Yeah?
She looked a little confused by my passive response.
Jill: "Brent, Anne Marie and Nathan go to Columbine!"
Anne Marie and Nathan are Jill and my first cousins, but what makes them different from the rest of our family is their age. Anne Marie is a few months older than Jill, and I am a few months older than Nathan. This had always kept us close because if we were experiencing something in life, odds were they were too. We have baby pictures together, we have pictures of Halloweens together (with Nathan and I embarrassingly dressed as Care bears, thanks mom), and we arrived at those awkward teenage years together. And while I had plenty of friends who were my age it was different to have someone who was a relative and a friend. It made it special. And it was very important to me to have this person who I could always relate to.
After hearing the news my cousins were possibly involved, I told myself: "I'm sure it's not as bad as its being made out to be on TV. I doubt anyone got hurt." We arrived home and the first thing mom said to us was, "Anne Marie has been shot"
I really didn't know how to react to the news. I think in that moment I couldn't comprehend exactly what that meant. My mom followed with "They think she was shot in the ankle, that's all we know right now."
First thought: `Oh she was just shot in the ankle, that's not too bad."
I suppose after hearing she had been shot, the news that it could be an ankle wound and not more severe was a relief, but I still find my initial response very odd.
Shortly after we got the call about the full extent of her injuries, she had been shot in the chest.
At school the next day one of my teachers announced in class that my cousin had been shot at Columbine. I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my own skin than I was then. I thought everyone was watching me and I didn't know how to act, should I look upset, worried, confident, should I cry? Nothing like this had ever happened to me before and I found myself only feeling numb, because I kept telling myself, "This isn't real."
The next day we arrived in Denver and my aunt drove us to the hospital. The rest of the family was already there and immediately I felt that slight air of awkwardness that happens when tragedy rather than joy is the reason for a family being together. We were told Nathan was out running an errand but would be back soon, then we were brought in to see Anne Marie. I think when you're in denial about something and then you are brought face to face with the reality of the situation it can scramble your world for a minute. That's what it was like when I first set foot in that room.
First thought: "After what they've been through, will Jill and I ever be able to fully relate to Anne Marie or Nathan again?"
I tried to keep to the back corner of the room, almost hiding. I had no idea what to say and didn't want to blurt something out which I tend to do sometimes when I'm uncomfortable. Anne Marie woke up and managed a smile when she saw everyone in the room. Then she looked like she was trying to ask for something, but because of the tubes in her mouth she couldn't talk. Instead she had to mouth the words while making charade like gestures weakly. I was the first to decipher that what she wanted was a swab to wet her mouth. She looked over, smiled at me and mouthed "good." Her patience amazed me. Eight people couldn't understand when she was making a simple request; I can't imagine how frustrating that must have been.
Shortly after we were kicked out of the room because the nurse wanted Anne Marie to sleep. As we were leaving we finally ran into Nathan who was just coming back. I wasn't going to let anything change, and greeted him as I always had.
We met some of Nathan and Anne Marie's friends who were also at Columbine including Jayson, Nathan's friend who pulled Anne Marie to safety at the risk of his own life. When I shook his hand I thought about how he was just a normal guy my age, and wondered, "In the same situation, could I have done what he did?" I think every guy likes to believe if he was in that situation he would know exactly what to do and would be the hero, but that's easy to say when you don't have bullets striking near you.
Nathan, Jayson, and I kind of struck out on our own after that and wandered around the hospital talking about anything and everything except, much to my surprise, their experience's with the shooting. In fact the majority of the conversation was filled with jokes and stories about what was happening in my life.
The next several days were filled with time spent at the hospital, including overnight stays, split with jumping around from house to house spending time with the rest of the family. My other cousins and I tried to spend time with Anne Marie when she was awake which mostly amounted to watching part of a movie or TV show in her room until she was tired. Nathan and I also spent a lot of time taking full advantage of the food vouchers for the hospital cafeteria, a luxury that I'm sure ended up costing the hospital a bundle. But all the time spent eating together also gave us a chance to talk and reassured me that although he had been and was still going through something terrible, Nathan was going to be all right.
After about six days we left for home, back to "normal." In a way, we were again separated from the situation, because unlike the rest of the family, we could leave. Although we did get daily reports as to what was happening, what progress was being made and what struggles were yet to overcome, we weren't experiencing it. I still can't imagine the day-to-day struggles and strains that were put on our family in Colorado nor the full extent of the affects it had on them. I "escaped" and part of me feels guilty for that.
Many of my knee jerk reactions took me by surprise, but I chalk it up to maturity and the fact that you never really know how you'll react in difficult circumstances.
What my experiences from Columbine gave me was a sense of perspective. So many little things that would have caused so much stress now seem rather unimportant. Problems at work, home, driving (I do live in LA), grocery shopping, and so many others, they aren't life or death. Columbine really helped me realize, people are what is important, because you never know how long you will have them. I've had many "things" so far in my life, but none of them has given me the joy I feel when I see my family or a friend after a long absence. I've never missed any "thing" as much as I miss my grandparents. And I've never been so proud to hold some "thing" as I was when I first held my little niece. As with most people I'm sure I would have figured all of this out without having gone through my experience with Columbine, but then again maybe not.
I'll end this post with a special thank you to Brent Rockswold. Brent's love and support and his family's love and support throughout our healing journey following the Columbine massacre will never be forgotten.
Brent, hopefully you'll consider contributing more essays and insights in the future.
Love you and yours more than you'll ever know.
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