I thought holding my son as he died would be my hardest moment. It wasn’t.

I thought that running to save my child from a mass shooting at his school in 2022, only to hold him as he died, would be the hardest thing I ever did in my life. It wasn’t.

Nick and I had a few moments before he passed; he was unconscious, but I knew he could hear me. I lay on the ground with him, held him, and spoke to him. Those were the last moments we ever spent together in this life.

I held my child as he entered and exited this world: the ultimate pain and privilege for a mother. This was God’s gift to me.

In the 15 months since Nick’s murder, there have been moments that have proven harder than watching my son die. One of those moments was testifying last March at a Pennsylvania state House Judiciary Committee hearing about the need for stronger gun laws.

It was the first day of Ramadan, my first without Nick. I woke up for a predawn meal of oatmeal and a huge glass of water at 3:30 a.m. Nerves prevented me from going back to sleep. At 6:30 a.m., my family picked me up and we drove to Harrisburg. We played the Rocky theme song as we walked up the Capitol steps.

I felt confident in my ability to deliver a moving testimony, with the intent to reach both sides of the aisle — to humanize Nick and the other victims, as they are so often reduced to statistics. It is paramount to keep Nick’s personhood at the forefront, not his victimhood.

My testimony presented Nick just as he was: an activist, a true conservationist and tireless steward, a curious boy who loved history and science, a diehard Marvel fan, a sports enthusiast, a freshman at W.B. Saul High School of Agricultural Sciences. I recounted the shooting, Nick’s death, and my experience since then. I spoke about my students at the Philadelphia public high school where I worked at the time, who have no choice but to normalize gun violence, and how we are failing them each day.

» READ MORE: My son, Nick Elizalde, brought people together. We need to follow his example. | Opinion

There were some tears. But there were also those on the committee who never once looked at me, instead scrolling on their devices. I interpreted this as extreme disrespect — to my son and to my experience as a survivor. I felt nauseated.

I thought that would be the worst of it. But it wasn’t.

As I exited the hearing, I walked by a man wearing an AR-15 pin, whom someone had pointed out earlier as a member of the gun lobby. As I passed him, he laughed at me and yelled, “I’m on the right side.” I turned back to face him. “I’m on my son’s side,” I yelled back, as my friends urged me to keep walking away.

This experience took everything out of me. I spent the next few days in bed.

This experience took everything out of me.

I testified at the House committee hearing because I thought I could help prevent other students from being gunned down at school. I thought I could change hearts. I was emotionally unprepared to see the callous disregard that some people have for my beautiful boy and the other victims.

Four commonsense bills were in front of the committee. The hope was, with a new Democratic majority in the House, real gun reform was possible. But only two of the reform bills passed: a red flag bill, which allows the seizure of firearms from someone deemed a threat to themselves or others, and another bill expanding background checks to include the sale of long guns from private owners, closing the gun show loophole. One bill requiring trigger locks to prevent a gun from firing never made it to the floor.

And the fourth bill — requiring owners to report stolen guns within three days — failed by one vote when State Rep. Frank Burns (D., Cambria) voted with Republicans. This particularly disturbs me, as, during the hearing, I listened to committee member State Rep. David Rowe (R., Snyder) compare the gun owner forced to report a theft to a rape victim being forced to disclose their assault. What an insulting absurdity.

But at least two bills passed the House, right? Unfortunately, in order to become law, the bills need to pass in the Senate, as well. State Sen. Lisa Baker (R., Luzerne), chair of the state Senate Judiciary Committee, said that she has “no plans to advance the bills” and that any gun-related bills must have “bipartisan involvement and support, full enforceability, and ensuring due process.”

When it comes to gun reform, all that needs to be considered is Nick, the other victims, and the survivors, including me. The now childless mothers who sent their child to school, only to have them never return. If that doesn’t move you to act, then you have no business governing.

State Sen. Baker has stated that gun violence is better addressed through changes to laws around mental health. Saying our problem of gun violence is really a problem of mental health has become an entirely too comfortable position taken by our legislators, which protects the rights of gun owners over the right to live.

I have repeatedly requested a meeting with Pennsylvania Senate President Pro Tempore Kim Ward (R., Westmoreland). Her office extended condolences but will not take a meeting. I don’t need condolences from my elected officials. I need them to hear Nick’s story and act.

Gun owner or not, I guarantee that when you wander into your dead child’s empty bedroom, where you used to tuck them in every night, you won’t be thinking of the Second Amendment or due process. You’ll feel an ache so deep that nothing could ever fill it. You’ll feel a sadness so profound that it swallows any happiness before it can even register. You’ll feel anger and disgust so palpable at our leaders who claim to be pro-family. Whose family? Not mine. Not those of the other victims.

We don’t have the luxury of sitting on the sidelines. Why does the burden to force change continuously fall on the survivors? We are the ones in need of support. We did not ask for this role. Those in office committed to serving the common good, which includes commonsense gun laws. Democracy demands that issues be brought to a vote so the people are heard. The Senate owes us a vote.

If I can lose my only child in a mass shooting and find the strength to testify at the Capitol six months later, why can’t our leaders find the strength to set politics aside and protect their constituents?

No matter what comes my way, God continues to give me the energy to keep fighting. Despite the toll the hearing took on me, I am willing to travel anywhere, to meet with anyone, to fight until the end of my days for my son and the other victims and survivors. That is the role God has chosen for me. I am looking for that same energy from our leaders, and I’m tired of being let down.

Meredith Elizalde is Nick’s mom. She works in higher education and is based in the Philly area.