Kimberly Rubio

My name is Kimberly Rubio. My daughter, Alexandria “Lexi” Rubio, was a victim of the Robb Elementary shooting in Uvalde, Texas, on May 24, 2022. I began publicly, loudly calling for sensible gun legislation on June 8, three days before I buried my baby. Since then, I have never turned down an opportunity to share Lexi’s story. In the beginning, I was overcome with grief but nobody can function with that level of pain for long. After a while, my brain stepped in to protect me. I feel numb most days. I’m operating on fumes. Lately, I see Lexi as if she was here. Sitting next to me in the stands of her big brother’s basketball game, biting her nails in anticipation. Sitting in a front row pew tonight, holding a candle, giving me a shy smile at the mention of her name. When I lay in bed, I turn on my side, envisioning her staring back at me. I have one hand cradling her face. A thumb caressing her cheek. I’d kiss her forehead. Relish the smell of her hair. I want so badly to be part of this alternative reality, but it doesn’t exist. This is my reality. Tonight, here, speaking at the 10th annual National Vigil for All Victims of Gun Violence because my 10-year-old daughter was murdered in her fourth-grade classroom. I urge Americans watching to join us as we push for the Senate to pass an assault weapons ban. Enough is enough. If not my child, whose? If not now, when? Lexi was the light of our lives and that was never clearer than now, in the darkness.