By Matthew and Melissa Tews

Copyright minnpost

“It’s unimaginable.”

“I can’t even begin to understand what you must be feeling.”

“I cannot imagine what you’ve gone through.”

These are a few of the well-meaning sentiments we’ve heard since our world was shattered and our worst fears came true on Aug. 27.

While well-meaning, they’re not quite right.

You can imagine it.

You can viscerally feel it.

You just don’t want to.

So today we’re sharing your story from that day.

You were on a work call when your phone started repeatedly buzzing around 8:30 a.m. While you tried to focus on the call, you reluctantly glanced down at 8:40 a.m. You were horrified to read that there was someone with an assault rifle firing into your kids’ school windows. The first thing you read was that there were mass casualties, 20 confirmed wounded with several dead or dying, and that they were taking the injured to Hennepin County Medical Center.

You immediately ended that work call and called your spouse. Telling your spouse what was happening — and not being able to reassure them that your kids were OK, or even alive — was the worst call you’d ever had to make. Minutes passed as you both began a panicked race toward the school, minds racing with worst-case scenarios. Somewhere along that highway, you got a text from a friend who was already at school: “I see your son.”Nothing about your daughter.Then you made the second-worst call you’ve ever had to make to your spouse; “He’s OK – I don’t know about her — I don’t know.” And then for the next 10 minutes you didn’t know; neither of you knew whether she was alive, dead or shot. All you knew was that someone with an assault rifle tried to take your kids away from you, and you either had one or two.

You imagined your son looking into your daughter’s lifeless eyes. You felt him hold her hand as her life slipped away. You begged God, the universe, fate that you were wrong.

When you finally arrived at the school and were allowed to look for your children, you saw them — both of them (thank God) — huddled together in the middle of the gym, with their friends and teachers, crying, some covered in blood. As you pulled them into your arms, your son quietly told you, “Mom, that was so scary, I’m going to have nightmares, and I never want to talk about it. Ever.” Your daughter didn’t say anything, she just looked into your eyes with a certain sparkle dead, gone forever, silently screaming, “Why?”That of course, wasn’t your story — it is ours and our kids’, and over 300 other children and their family’s story from Aug. 27 at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis.But it just as easily could have been your story — or your story could have been infinitely worse — you could have been one of the parents who didn’t see their kids (alive but shattered) in that gym.

You CAN imagine it.

You CAN feel it.

You MUST.We don’t have to live this way. We don’t have to leave our kids’ lives up to random chance.Soon, the Minnesota Legislature might hold a special session to address gun violence if Gov. Walz calls for one. Our state legislators will have an opportunity to defend our children from future violent attacks

One of the things being considered is a ban on the sale of high-capacity assault rifles. Many will argue that this infringes upon their Second Amendments rights. I, too, am a proponent of the Second Amendment. A citizen should have the right to defend themself; a person should have the right to hunt.

Banning those weapons of defense and sport — handguns, hunting rifles, shotguns — is not what our legislators are being asked to consider. Do those defensive and sporting weapons get used to commit heinous crimes for which they were not intended? Yes, of course, and that is horrific and tragic.

Mental health services can help end those tragedies. Stricter purchasing regulations can help end those tragedies. Those are all thoughtful and smart policy decisions that will also be considered. Those things won’t hurt. They should pass.But a hunting rifle didn’t put 120 high-velocity bullets into a church of praying students in 66 seconds. Nor did a shotgun; nor did a pistol. They couldn’t — that is not what they are designed to do.A lawfully purchased assault rifle did. And, of course it did: That is what assault rifles are made to do.An assault rifle has but one purpose — effectively, offensively and accurately killing or maiming as many people as possible, as quickly and efficiently as possible, from medium range. And they are good at it. That is why they are the primary weapon of choice for our forwardly-deployed brave armed forces.

But they have no purpose in civilian life. There is absolutely no reason they should be available to the civilian population. Like tanks, canons, mortars and rocket launchers — they are weapons of war that (while some good people might think they are fun or cool to fire) a citizen simply should not own. Much like we don’t allow F1 and NASCAR racers on our streets because, we all acknowledge, it would simply be too dangerous, we cannot continue to make it so easy for those in our society to procure military weapons solely intended to do people harm.I’m certain this will be a politically charged issue, and I’m sure the gun lobby will be putting immense pressure on our state lawmakers to vote against the interests of all our children.

Our lawmakers need to hear from us, their constituents — the parents, the families, the concerned citizens — whose sole interest lies in protecting our children from future violence. We must be the force against the gun lobby. We must do everything in our power to prevent this from being anyone else’s story.

You can imagine it. I pray that’s the worst you ever have to do. I pray you don’t have to live it. But a failure to turn this moment into action is leaving that up to chance.

Call your state lawmakers. Make your voices heard. Move your feet.

The future of all our children is riding on this moment.

Matthew and Melissa Tews are South Minneapolis residents with two children (first grade and fourth grade) who currently attend Annunciation Catholic School. Matthew is an attorney and Melissa is a pharmacist.