Nearly a year after the Highland Park parade shooting, the mother of Cooper Roberts, an 8-year-old boy who was critically wounded in the shooting, shared an update on his and their family's progress.
Keely Roberts and her son Cooper were among the victims in the Independence Day mass shooting that left seven people dead and 46 others wounded, one of the state's two deadliest mass shootings.
In a letter chronicling the past year for her family, Roberts describes the new challenges and barriers that exist to Cooper's everyday life, along with what was stolen from Cooper and his twin brother Luke's childhoods that day nearly one year ago.
The twins just celebrated their ninth birthday this week, a birthday celebration that looked and felt much different from last year's, mere days before their lives changed forever.
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"The closer we have been inching toward the anniversary of the 4th of July mass shooting, the more I feel overwhelming grief for what has been taken from my children," Roberts said in her letter.
Roberts added that Cooper and Luke recently completed third grade, a feat that had little to do with academics and much more to do with the fact that they were still alive.
Regardless, the boys completing another year of school was a tremendous moment in a year where happy moments have been few and far in between.
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"Watching them come out the front doors on that last day of school with their classmates, laughing and smiling, proudly celebrating the end of the school year with their friends, felt absolutely enormous. Even though we had to pick Cooper up to put him atop the school sign, so he could sit next to Luke and his friends for the end of the school year picture– something Cooper so very much wanted to still be able to do -- seeing him there, happy in the moment, felt like climbing Mount Everest, an enormous feat," Roberts said.
The feat felt even more significant considering that Luke and Cooper were not in the same classroom to start a school year for the first time.
"I could not help but remember back to Cooper and Luke’s first day of third grade. For the first time ever in their lives, they did not start school together on the same day, the official first day of school. This year, the impact of the mass shooting caused each to have to start their school year on different days and without the other—and to do so during a time when they needed each other the most," Roberts' letter read in part.
Roberts couldn't help but compare Luke and Cooper's recent birthday celebration to their birthday celebrations last year.
"Last year, their birthday was filled with pure joy as the boys loved being at the ballpark, cheering on their favorite baseball team, eating hotdogs, and having fun. We never could have imagined what was coming just around the corner. We were determined to make this year’s birthday as happy and celebratory as possible, to provide a temporary reprieve from the hardships and emotional weight that comes with being so little and trying to survive something so big and unthinkable. This year, we celebrated their lives—both the day they were born and the day they survived," Roberts said.
In the year since, much of the family's focus has gone towards Cooper's rehabilitation and figuring out permanent housing that is wheelchair-accessible.
Roberts also mentioned that along with physical therapy, Cooper has began wheelchair tennis and participates in adaptive swim meets.
The adjustment at home for Cooper has proven to be exceptionally challenging.
"Unfortunately, our family home is inaccessible – lots of stairs, narrow hallways that can’t accommodate a wheelchair, kitchen counters too high. So, at enormous expense, we are building a home so that Cooper can be wherever the family is, rather than relegated to just a couple rooms on the first floor and then carried upstairs to bed," Roberts said in her letter.
She added that once Cooper was able to come home and transition to day therapy nearly three months after the shooting, the family was able to live in a borrowed ranch home for a few months that was more accessible for Cooper than the two-story, nearly century-old family home.
Cooper and his family are still faced with significant challenges, from accessible housing and transportation to ongoing medical care, physical therapy and countless other accommodations needed for a lifetime.
"In one sense, it feels like every single thing in our lives changed on July 4th, 2022. On the other hand, I have become even more grateful and aware of all the things that will never change—our love for the boys, our commitment to always try to do right by them, our deep hope that they live lives filled with great joy and purpose, surrounded by those who truly love them. In a world that has proven to be filled with shocking circumstances and unbearable situations, this remains and will always be true," Roberts said.
A GoFundMe fundraiser aiming to raise money for an adaptive home for the Roberts family has been launched, raising over $102,000 thus far of a $900,000 goal.
The text from Keely Roberts' full letter can be read below:
"Cooper and Luke just celebrated their birthday this week. They had just turned 8-years-old at the time of the Highland Park mass shooting last July 4. Some of the most painful cruelties that come with surviving often show up in the most ordinary of places. It is almost impossible to not look back on such milestone days and compare—what did we do last year at this time and what are we doing now? This year, those comparisons break my heart-- reminding me of how much their lives, our lives have been completely and utterly changed. The decimation of childhood innocence is just gut-wrenching, amidst the other many losses they endure.
The closer we have been inching toward the anniversary of the 4th of July mass shooting, the more I feel overwhelming grief for what has been taken from my children.
Earlier this month, Cooper and Luke finished third grade. This year was not about academic prowess, it was about honoring that both of our boys were alive to even be third graders. Watching them come out the front doors on that last day of school with their classmates, laughing and smiling, proudly celebrating the end of the school year with their friends, felt absolutely enormous. Even though we had to pick Cooper up to put him atop the school sign, so he could sit next to Luke and his friends for the end of the school year picture– something Cooper so very much wanted to still be able to do -- seeing him there, happy in the moment, felt like climbing Mount Everest, an enormous feat.
I could not help but remember back to Cooper and Luke’s first day of third grade. For the first time ever in their lives, they did not start school together on the same day, the official first day of school. This year, the impact of the mass shooting caused each to have to start their school year on different days and without the other—and to do so during a time when they needed each other the most.
Cooper and Luke have had so much stolen from them -- so much of the joyful, carefree innocence that makes childhood so special. Like so many children impacted by violence and trauma, their childhood has been obliterated by a mass shooting. Last year, their birthday was filled with pure joy as the boys loved being at the ballpark, cheering on their favorite baseball team, eating hotdogs, and having fun. We never could have imagined what was coming just around the corner. We were determined to make this year’s birthday as happy and celebratory as possible, to provide a temporary reprieve from the hardships and emotional weight that comes with being so little and trying to survive something so big and unthinkable. This year, we celebrated their lives—both the day they were born and the day they survived.
And yet, their lives now are filled with such challenges and loss. Cooper can’t run, play like he used to, or even walk. He can’t be on the soccer team, bounce on the couch or wrestle with his brother. When he should be going to sports practice, he is attending physical therapy. Yet, amidst the sadness, we are astonished by his resilience and hope as Cooper has started participating in Adaptive Swim Meets and is learning wheelchair tennis. We are figuring out new ways to participate in the world.
We’ve also been completely, physically uprooted for nearly a year now. At first, we weren’t even sure Cooper would survive. It was miraculous, truly, that Jason and the first responders at the scene were even able to get Cooper to the hospital, alive, and then it was a miracle that the ER and surgical teams at Highland Park hospital were able to save his life and ready him for a medevac flight to Comer Children's Hospital. Jason and I lived in that PICU for weeks—always at Cooper’s bedside and praying with a relentless desperation that I have never felt before. One of us always stayed with him when he transferred to inpatient rehab (even his sisters were able to have some sleepovers in his room—the reunion among siblings so emotional), and his daily physical and occupational therapy, and significant daily needs became the focus of our family’s life. All else is scheduled around Cooper’s needs.
When Cooper was finally ready to transition to day therapy and allowed to come home, nearly three months after being shot, now in a wheelchair, we were fortunate enough to move into a borrowed ranch home for a few months that allowed for greater accessibility opportunities for Cooper than he would have in our almost 100-year-old two-story home. Unfortunately, our family home is inaccessible – lots of stairs, narrow hallways that can’t accommodate a wheelchair, kitchen counters too high. So, at enormous expense, we are building a home so that Cooper can be wherever the family is, rather than relegated to just a couple rooms on the first floor and then carried upstairs to bed.
We are immensely grateful for the many, many kindnesses and donations that have been made to support Cooper and our family. But we have a lifetime of significant hurdles to go: ongoing medical care, social-emotional support, physical therapy, accessible transportation, accessible homes and accommodations for a lifetime, equitable education opportunities and much, much more. It keeps me up at night more nights than I can possibly count.
In one sense, it feels like every single thing in our lives changed on July 4th, 2022. On the other hand, I have become even more grateful and aware of all the things that will never change—our love for the boys, our commitment to always try to do right by them, our deep hope that they live lives filled with great joy and purpose, surrounded by those who truly love them. In a world that has proven to be filled with shocking circumstances and unbearable situations, this remains and will always be true."
