Thank you for joining us today to celebrate Dylan’s life. Though his life was so much shorter than any of us would have hoped, there is still so much to celebrate.

 

But before we speak of Dylan, there are other things we want to share.

 

First, we must give thanks. There are so very many people who have come together to support our community through this tragedy. From state and federal organizations, emergency services and first responders, to individual acts of kindness the list seem endless. We wanted to express our gratitude to everyone involved in the efforts to support the many families affected by this tragedy and to put Sandy Hook and Newtown back together.

 

In those first days, we had to turn off the television to avoid confused reporting and sensationalism. However, this meant we also missed the heart warming stories from around the world of communities that extended aid and prayers to our town. The benefits of social media came to the fore here, as friends unconsciously filtered the news by sharing only positive messages.

We have received fantastic counseling, on both an emotional and spiritual level. By exploring the experiences and feelings of this past week we’ve gained new perspectives about Dylan and the events that have happened. We thank them for guiding us here.

 

With foresight the authorities provided The Families with dedicated police support. I want to publicly acknowledge “Trooper Greg”, as he has become known to everyone in our circle. He is now part of our extended family and we are thankful he is with us.

 

I have been an IBMer for 14 years now, almost to the day. “Support” is an inadequate word to describe how the people of IBM have carried us through this week. I have also received messages from my colleagues around the world. Never more than right now has it felt like a family itself.

 

There are so many friends who helped us in this first week, providing accommodation, food and a shoulder to cry on. Many more stand ready to help in the coming weeks, as the media frenzy dies down and the community rebuilds. We thank all of those.

 

We give thanks to the teachers and administration of Sandy Hook Elementary School. Those who protected the children that survived, including Dylan’s older brother Jake, and those who selflessly died trying to save so many. You are forever in our hearts.

 

Though no one death is more or less significant than another, we must give tribute to one person. Mrs. Anne Marie Murphy was a special education teacher and Dylan’s aide. Her role was to look after Dylan - support him when he needed it and encourage his independence when he didn’t. I had the privilege to meet Mrs. Murphy a few times. I was struck by her warmth and kindness. Meeting her family this week, I am struck by those same qualities in them. Dylan and Mrs. Murphy had a special bond. Dylan looked at his class picture on our refrigerator every day, smiled and said, “There’s my class! There’s Mrs. Murphy!” Last Friday at the firehouse, I looked for Mrs. Murphy, knowing that no matter what, she would be with Dylan. When I was informed of his death and the many others, I dared to hope that Mrs. Murphy would be alive, but in my heart knew she would not have left him. Her family confirmed to us that she died trying to protect Dylan and knowing that eased our pain, because whatever else had happened, Dylan had not been alone. We offer our condolences to Mrs. Murphy’s family, and our heartfelt thanks to her for looking after our little boy in death as in life.

 

Next, let’s speak of change.

 

As part of the mobile generation, my entire calendar resides solely on my iPhone. I looked at my calendar yesterday for the first time this week, and read I had ironically entered today as “the end of the world” based on theories around the Mayan calendar. I do not believe today is the end of the world. I believe it is the start of something new. It is the end of a very long week; a week that began in tragedy and is now ending with so many of our beloved children and teachers having been laid to rest. But the sun will rise again tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the start of a new period of healing, of peace and of positive change. I don’t know what that change will be, but I think it is very fitting that this new change, this new beginning, comes from a peaceful, quiet place aptly named “New”town.

 

Dylan’s big brother, Jake, asked us a question over breakfast yesterday. He asked, “Why is everyone around the world talking about this?” A relative of mine provided the answer. The world is talking because of the children. Even in horror movies and violent video games, it is unacceptable to kill children. People might want to be scared or thrilled, but they do not want to lose faith in humanity.

 

I have not lost my faith in humanity. The overwhelming amount of support from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues and our beloved community is proof of the inherently benevolent and good nature of people. The acts of kindness and solidarity that we’ve heard taking place around the world have amazed us.

 

In truth, this has been difficult for our family to comprehend. We isolated ourselves in the first few days after Dylan’s death. This was just about our little family and our huge sense of loss. But now that we’ve emerged from our cocoon, we are starting to understand and appreciate how what happened last week is starting to change the world.

 

Finally, let us remember Dylan.

 

Dylan “helped” us choose Sandy Hook to settle in. We were relocating from the UK in January 2011, the Big Snow. While house hunting I had toured towns across Westchester and Fairfield counties, and Newtown just felt “right”. I visited Sandy Hook school, met the staff and dear Dawn Hochsprung, saw the special needs facilities and knew this was right for both our sons; that Dylan would flourish here. As we said in our statement we will never regret this decision.

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Today you’ve heard our friends share some of their fond memories of Dylan. Earlier this week, Dylan’s grandparents spoke of their love and memories of Dylan. For us, we remember his smile. His laugh. His love of bouncing on trampolines and eating chocolate. His beautiful eyes and mischievous grin. His deep empathy in reacting to the feelings of others. His favorite books. The giant purple dots he made almost every day at school. His sensitivity to loud noises and his love of routine. His computer games and his most loved movies. The way he would lie in the warm sand at the beach, or take joy in finding the moon in the sky. How he called lightning “beautiful”, even while he was scared by the thunder. How he would ride a rollercoaster time after time and still not want to get off. The way other children were drawn to him, and how he wanted to play with them so much, even though he didn’t always know how. The way he loved to cuddle, have his back stroked, be tickled, or use other people as pillows when he snuggled against them.

 

Not all children on the autism spectrum enjoy being touched, so we felt very lucky that Dylan loved to cuddle. Though we always felt Dylan was a bit special, discovering he was autistic was difficult for us at first. With the support of the school, Dylan’s development was progressing strongly and we began to believe he could be capable of an independent life in the future. Having a child with special needs in your family has its challenges and compromises. But it also adds so much happiness and strength. Dylan was pure, innocent and joyful and in trying to see the world from his point of view, our family’s mind was opened in ways it might not have been otherwise. He helped us to be stronger people than we might have been without him.

 

A fund has been created in Dylan’s name to benefit children with autism and other special needs. Over time the independent trustees will take guidance on how to maximize the impact of the donations and contribute to the change that this tragedy is driving across the world.

 

Like many people on the spectrum, Dylan demonstrated several aspects of repetitive movement. Autistic individuals are sometimes known to rock their bodies, roll their heads or flap their hands. Dylan was a flapper. Whenever he got excited or happy, he jumped up and down and flapped as fast as he could. One day I asked Dylan, “Why do you flap?” In all honesty, because Dylan had under-developed language skills, I wasn’t expecting him to answer. But he did. He said, “Because I am a beautiful butterfly.”

 

It has been said that something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a hurricane halfway around the world. That a small change or single occurrence in one place can result in large differences elsewhere. It redefines the future.

 

Dylan is our butterfly. All of the children and adults who lost their lives last week are our butterflies. And if one butterfly can cause a hurricane, then 26 butterflies can change the world.

 

As parents, we all advocate on behalf of our children every day. Because of Dylan’s special needs, we advocated for him even more strongly. Today we celebrate the life he had. After tomorrow we will continue to advocate for Dylan and all the children and adults who’s lives were lost here, to make a change so that their deaths were not in vain. Earlier this week at the vigil, President Obama said “These tragedies must end, and to end them, we must change.”

 

That’s why I believe something positive will come from this. I refuse to accept this as a “senseless tragedy”. I believe Dylan and the others that died with him are catalysts. And while I selfishly wish my child was still here with me, and while I fear the empty space in my heart may never be filled, I am also at peace, taking comfort in the knowledge that his death will have meaning. There will be a positive change from this and we will be part of it. Newtown, will be part of it.

 

We’ll miss you Dylan. But we thank you for the happiness you brought to us and so many others. We thank you for filling our hearts and for opening our eyes to new perspectives. We thank you for being a wonderful son and awesome little brother. And we thank you and your friends for the legacy you will leave behind. You are in all our hearts and minds, forever. We love you so much, Dylan, our beautiful, beautiful butterfly.