Time has neither healed wounds nor answered lingering questions for many of the families who lost their children and loved ones when a gunman unleashed a barrage of bullets at Robb Elementary School last year. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nineteen children and two teachers were killed in the carnage, which also left 17 wounded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the 12 months since one of the bloodiest school shootings in U.S. history transformed this quiet Texas community into another example of the nation\u2019s complicated relationship with guns, the parents of the children killed last May 24 have not moved on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some have harnessed their anger into political action, wielding it like a shield to protect themselves from getting lost in their pain. Others have seen their worlds shrink under the weight of unrelenting grief, with only close friends and family allowed inside their increasingly insular worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Of the six parents NBC interviewed in Uvalde, all said the shooting remains fresh in their minds. They said they still expect to hear their children\u2019s voices when they wake up in the morning or when someone tells a joke that would have made their kids laugh. They have built makeshift memorials filled with toys, photos and other memories that have remained as vibrant as the day they were made. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe take it day by day,\u201d said Brett Cross, whose 10-year-old son, Uziyah Garcia, was among those killed last year. \u201cThere\u2019s no good days anymore. There\u2019s just all-right days.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On a breezy April afternoon, Brett Cross slowly shook his head as he gazed at his son\u2019s memorial in the Uvalde town square. It\u2019s just one of almost two dozen similar memorials surrounding a large fountain in a lush municipal park. Murals of the 21 victims light up public walls throughout the city, turning Uvalde into an outdoor gallery filled with colorful works by various Texas artists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adorned with flowers and handwritten notes, Uziyah\u2019s memorial stands apart from the others with its oversize stuffed lion and red Spiderman basket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTime doesn\u2019t heal,\u201d Cross <\/strong>said, exhausted from a recent trip to Austin where he joined other families and advocates pushing for a gun bill that would raise the minimum age from 18 to 21 for buying an assault-style weapon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Cross has become a full-time gun reform activist and one of the most vocal proponents of new gun laws in the year since his son was killed, driving three hours every week to the Texas capital to champion tougher laws that supporters say would prevent future tragedies. He now has more than 58,000 followers on Twitter, regularly speaks with elected leaders and trained himself to speak out<\/a> after mass shootings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI shouldn\u2019t be going to Austin. I shouldn\u2019t be having to do this fight. Nobody should,\u201d he said. \u201cWe have failed not just as a country, but as a race, as a species. We do not protect our young.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Cross said he was not involved in politics before the Uvalde shooting, and that he was \u201cjust a dad,\u201d shuttling his six school-age children to school and games and practices. After Uziyah\u2019s death, he filled his emptiness with rage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, he is pushing for more background checks, for red flag laws and safe storage measures and to raise the minimum age for purchasing certain types of firearms. He has camped outside Uvalde Consolidated Independent School District headquarters, calling for the resignations of law enforcement officers and administrators involved in the widely criticized response to the shooting, and has been kicked out of state Legislature hearings and even drawn disapproval from some community members who say he should stop drumming up the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOnce I slow down, I\u2019m going to be useless,\u201d Cross said. \u201cEverything I do is for Uziyah, but nothing I say or do can bring him back, so it\u2019s about making sure nobody else has to fight for their child after they die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Blinking heavily after not sleeping for two days, Sandra Torres didn\u2019t want to talk about gun bills or politics or the failures of law enforcement on the day her daughter was killed. She didn\u2019t want to talk about anything other than Eliahna, who would have turned 11 earlier this year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe always wanted her own room because we shared one when we lived with my mother,\u201d Torres said. \u201cWe spent all year decorating it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Torres and her partner, Mack Segovia, moved into their own home after the shooting and have spent much of the last year dedicating a bedroom to Eliahna. It\u2019s filled with her most cherished possessions: a jersey signed by the Houston Astros, photos with her grandmother, an honor roll certificate, softball cleats and other sporting equipment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the closet, displayed on a small table, is the small blue backpack she carried with her the day she was killed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe didn\u2019t want to go to school that morning,\u201d Torres said. \u201cShe was so worried about making All-Stars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eliahna made the team but didn\u2019t live long enough to celebrate the victory. Instead, her memory is captured in a new house she never visited. On her bedroom door is an almost life-size poster of her in her softball uniform, giant angel wings stretching behind her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In the living room, as their puppy whined in the corner and Segovia sat quietly at a table, Torres slumped over a chair cradling her head in her arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know she\u2019s not going to sleep in there ever, but just to have a memorial of what she loved is a comfort to me,\u201d she said of Eliahna\u2019s recently completed bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When asked how she has coped since the shooting, she fell into contemplative silence. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t believe in \u2018Uvalde Strong\u2019 anymore,\u201d Torres said. \u201cIt\u2019s like nobody cares. Nobody understands our pain. Nobody knows what we\u2019re going through. It\u2019s us against the world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That world has become smaller in recent months. Torres <\/strong>feels a close bond with the other families who lost loved ones but said she has been all but abandoned by the school district and law enforcement officials.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey failed all around,\u201d Segovia interjected. \u201cIt\u2019s like they don\u2019t even care.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n School district and law enforcement officials did not respond to multiple requests for comment. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Shortly before the shooting, Eliahna and her family had watched a documentary about the one at Columbine High School in 1999, Segovia said. Eliahna asked her mom what she should do if something like that ever happened at Robb Elementary. <\/p>\n\n\n\n “I told her to run and hide so he couldn’t find her,” Torres said. “But I told her not to worry about it, something like that would never happen in Uvalde.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Veronica Mata, who was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with an image of her 10-year-old daughter, Tess, looked down as she described how difficult the last year had been for her family. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe have people wanting us to remove the crosses from the plaza,\u201d she said. \u201cWe have people not wanting the murals up. We have people that used to be our friends that no longer talk to us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When asked what sparked the rift, Mata said she suspected it boiled down to politics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey don\u2019t believe in what we\u2019re doing,\u201d she said, referring to parents advocating for stricter gun legislation. \u201cWhat should matter is that my daughter is no longer here because of a gun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That wasn\u2019t always the case, Mata said. Support flooded into Uvalde in the days and weeks after the shooting but waned as unaffected community members sought to return to normal and gun rights advocates framed the country\u2019s mass shooting pathology as a mental health crisis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She has joined efforts to enact stricter gun laws in Texas and has criticized lawmakers who oppose such measures, drawing the ire of Second Amendment supporters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s been a difficult road,\u201d Mata said. \u201cRealizing that we don\u2019t have support right now is hard. It\u2019s hard to continue moving.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Like other Robb Elementary parents, she wants the world to remember her daughter for the happiness and warmth she brought to her community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTess was our energetic, our fun-loving, athletic little girl,\u201d Mata said. \u201cShe was the light of our lives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the most surprising developments over the last year for Kimberly Rubio has been the support she received from people she had long forgotten, including a former classmate she had not spoken with since the fourth grade. The two families have since forged a bond that helps anchor her when torrents of grief about her 10-year-old daughter threaten to overwhelm her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHer entire family messages me all the time,\u201d she said of the former classmate. \u201cOne of the sisters will go to Austin to be with us. They\u2019ll bring food locally, those that still live in Uvalde, and it\u2019s so comforting to know that our stories reached them. It\u2019s very powerful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rubio has also found solace through a new tattoo on her arm depicting a drawing Lexi gave her several years ago. It shows mother and daughter with the words \u201cI love my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI just think it\u2019s beautiful to wear something she drew,\u201d Rubio said. \u201cHow often do we get to see ourselves through our children\u2019s eyes? I think I need that reminder on bad days when I feel like I failed her. I need to see that she loved me and she thought I was doing a good job.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The feeling of failing to protect her daughter often obscures her vision for the future. She struggles with her faith and questions whether she will ever be reunited with her little girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf somebody told me tomorrow, you\u2019ll for sure get to see her again but you have to wait till you\u2019re 100, I could do it,\u201d Rubio said. \u201cI could do it and I could even be remotely happy. But not knowing, that\u2019s devastating.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Cazares family, who lost 9-year-old Jacklyn in the shooting, does not shrink from a fight. Gloria Cazares, her husband, Javier, and their 18-year-old daughter, Jazmin, have been regulars at state and school board hearings, tweeting their anger over failures to enact gun legislation or hold law enforcement officials accountable. <\/p>\n\n\n\nEliahna’s mom<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Tess’ mom<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Lexi’s mom<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Jacklyn’s mom<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n