Dave Wellstone: The grief of the Minnesota lawmaker shootings is one I know all too well

Opinion editor’s note: Strib Voices publishes a mix of guest commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here.

•••

There are very few people in Minnesota politics who know what it feels like to lose your family in an instant. I do.

When my parents — Paul and Sheila Wellstone — and my sister Marcia died in that plane crash more than two decades ago, my world was obliterated. There’s no road map for that kind of loss. No script for what to say. Only the silence that follows when the cameras leave, the headlines fade and you’re left figuring out how to keep breathing.

And now, here we are again.

This month, we lost Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, in an unspeakable act of violence. State Sen. John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette — dear friends of mine — were shot multiple times and are beginning their long path to recovery. Their daughter, Hope, was with them during the attack. Once again, a family has been shattered in a moment. Once again, Minnesota politics is grieving people who lived their lives in public service. Once again, children are left to navigate a world that will never feel the same.

I’ve known John Hoffman for years. We’ve worked shoulder-to-shoulder on issues that matter to both of us — mental health, addiction, disability rights, support for those too often left behind. His leadership has never wavered. He and Melissa both carried forward the kind of values my father championed: Stand up for regular people. Fight for those without a voice. Serve with integrity.

I was with John just hours before this tragedy unfolded. We hugged, we laughed. We had no idea that it would be the last time we’d see each other before everything changed.

Grief like this is disorienting. It punches you in the gut and steals your bearings. But eventually, for me, I learned that movement is the only way forward. When I lost my family, I drove straight toward the crash site because I couldn’t sit still. And today, I feel that same pull to do something. Anything.

For months, the Green Bus has been quietly making its return — restoration work began last fall. But as it prepares to roll again, this moment reminds me exactly why it matters. For those who don’t know, my father’s old campaign bus — that scrappy green beacon of hope — has sat dormant for years. But it was never just a vehicle. It was a symbol of the kind of politics we believed in: honest, grassroots, people-powered and anchored in compassion.

Melissa Hortman understood what that bus represented. John Hoffman understood. They didn’t just admire my dad’s work — they carried it forward. And so now, as the Green Bus returns to Minnesota communities, I carry them with me.

Not because it solves everything. But because symbols matter.

Because in moments like this, we need to remember what we’re fighting for. We need spaces for healing. We need reminders that good people still outnumber evil ones. We need hope.

My heart goes out to the Hortmans’ children, Sophie and Colin, and to Hope — whose courage, grace and resilience in the face of unimaginable loss will inspire Minnesotans for years to come. Sophie and Colin, in their extraordinary statement following the shootings, told us exactly how to honor their parents’ memory: “Do something, whether big or small, to make our community just a little better for someone else.” That’s exactly it. That’s the legacy we owe Melissa and Mark. That’s the example we need to follow for John, Yvette and Hope.

Because hope and resilience are the enemy of fear. And today, more than ever, we must choose them.

So, I’ll bring the Green Bus to communities across Minnesota who are hurting, to people struggling with mental health, addiction, loneliness and loss. We’ll meet, we’ll listen, we’ll share stories. And in doing so, we’ll remind each other that the way forward is not through fear — it’s through action rooted in love.

Dave Wellstone led national advocacy for the 2008 Mental Health Parity Act following the loss of his parents, Paul and Sheila Wellstone. He is the founder and CEO of Pathfinder Solutions and remains active in mental health and addiction recovery efforts.