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Dylan Christopher Jack Hockley
March 8, 2006 ~ December 14, 2012
Dylan's bell is D7. When D7 rings, we remember a beautiful, joyous, loving little 6-year-old boy who often would laugh himself silly by repeatedly replaying parts of his favorite movies. He had an infectious laugh and was passionate about the moon, garlic bread, the color purple and computer games.
Dylan's parents remember him as a happy child. "He was 6 and full of joy," his mother, Nicole Hockley, says. She said he was always smiling and described his laugh as infectious.
When his dad would return to their Newtown, Connecticut, home each day, Dylan would run to his father, Ian, saying," Daddy!"
"He was autistic," she says, "but incredibly empathetic. He just wanted to have fun."
Most of all, Dylan loved to bounce on a trampoline in the family's backyard, remembers his father.
"I'd say, 'Go out on the trampoline!' Ian Hockley says. "And he would always say, 'Are you coming, Daddy?'"
Together, they would vault up on the trampoline and bounce, sometimes joined by Dylan's brother, Jake, who is two years older.
"If I didn't go, Dylan wouldn't go," Ian Hockley remembers. "He just wanted to have so much fun with me."
At Dylan's Celebration of Life service, his mom, Nicole Hockey, described her beautiful son.
“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 roller coaster 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.”
Dylan's family said everyone who met him, loved him.
"His beaming smile would light up any room and his laugh was the sweetest music," they said. "He loved to cuddle, play tag every morning at the bus stop with our neighbors, bounce on the trampoline, play computer games, watch movies, the color purple, seeing the moon and eating his favorite foods, especially chocolate. He was learning to read and was so proud when he read us a new book every day. He adored his big brother Jake, his best friend and role model."
Nicole Hockley said that her son had an amazing bond with teacher Anne Marie Murphy, and that on the day of the shooting, she searched for Murphy, knowing she would never leave Dylan alone. A few days after the tragedy, the Hockleys ran into Mike Murphy, husband of Anne Marie Murphy. He revealed to them that in the terrible aftermath of the attack, first responders found Dylan and his teacher together.
"He said that Anne Marie Murphy had been found with her arms wrapped around Dylan. That is what we had hoped for -- in a very strange sort of way to hope for something," said Nicole.
Murphy was his "amazing" aide, Dylan's family said. He loved her, pointing happily to her photo on the Hockley's refrigerator every day.
"She loved him and he loved her and she would've looked after him no matter what," Nicole says, fighting back tears. "To know that he was with her, and that he wasn't alone, that gives you a huge peace of mind ... to know that he was loved even in those last moments."
Hockley recalled asking Dylan at one time why he flapped his arms when he got excited. She hadn't expected an answer because Dylan had a form of autism that left him with undeveloped language skills.
"Because I am a beautiful butterfly," he told her.
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 are our butterflies. And if one butterfly can cause a hurricane, then 26 butterflies can change the world," she said.
Dylan will never be forgotten. A bell for Dylan will always ring at Christmas.