Andrea Peyser
IN NEWTOWN, CONN.
He looked as if he was asleep.
I thank God for that.
Jack Armistead Pinto, a little boy with a big and important name, lay in a pure white casket, eyes shut as if in slumber. He wore a small, white-and-red Jersey bearing the No. 80, for Victor Cruz, his beloved New York Giants player. In each chubby fist was a small, gray stuffed whale, along with rosary beads from which hung a tiny metal crucifix.
He cannot be gone.
If Jack had the chance to grow into a man, the small boy with the infectious grin and enormous personality might have played for the Giants one day. For Jack was a nimble and talented athlete, even at a tender age, said Wally, the dad of his best friend, J.J.
We’ll never know.
Jack was 6 when he died.
Crushing grief so great it threatened to swallow this small town washed up on the Honan Funeral Home yesterday, where hundreds of people lined up for hours to say goodbye to Jack. A child who never had a chance.
It was up to Jack’s father, Dean, to comfort the many mourners who hugged him, wordlessly, and wept into the arms of Jack’s mom, Tricia.
“Just think of our baby boy, Jack,” said Dean, tears staining his face.
“Just think of our baby boy.”
Jack’s was among the first of 26 funerals for those who died in this town, torn by senseless violence, ripped by unimaginable tragedy. Twenty of the dead are children, each just 6 or 7, who made the grievous mistake of coming to Sandy Hook Elementary on Friday.
The funeral home was adorned with flowers, letters and a white Teddy bear — along with many photos of little kids, their faces all asking an unanswerable question:
Why?
“Jack was one of Jesus’ lambs,’’ said Pastor Rob Morris of Christ the King Lutheran Church. “All of us are asking, ‘Where was God when this happened?’ ”
The pastor answered the question simply:
“He was with Jack.
“Today we weep together as Jesus wept when he was on this earth.’’
Pastor Morris’ voice broke with pain.
“He wept for everyone who went to Sandy Hook Elementary School. He wept for 20 children.
“He wept for Jack.”
But the pastor did not mention the name of the man who brought such unfathomable grief. No one, not one mourner or minister, not Jack’s grieving family, mentioned the name Adam Lanza.
This was a day to remember Jack.
A friend of the Pinto family, Mary, talked of Jack’s large personality. “From the moment Jack arrived in a room, he attracted all the attention,” she said.
He adored his big brother, Ben, too.
“He followed Ben anywhere. He was so proud you were his big brother,” said Mary.
J.J.’s dad added, “His smile was larger than life.”
The boys were inseparable.
“He and J.J. would run around the house like two wild animals,’’ Wally said. “We’d say, ‘Jack, would you like a hot dog?’
“ ‘Is J.J. having a hot dog?’ ”
“ ‘Jack, would you like to go swimming?’ ’’
“ ‘Is J.J. going swimming?’ ”
Jack was an avid wrestler at school. He once told the coach he lost a tooth, and the coach took it. Jack immediately went back to wrestle.
Eventually, his mom asked where his tooth was.
“Coach has it.”
“Now, when someone loses a tooth,” said Wally, “they call it a Pinto Break.”
Mourners’ laughter got mixed up with their tears. They celebrated a boy whom Wally called “a real ego booster.” The kind of kid who always told others, “Good job!” — whether or not they deserved it.
“Jack is a model for all of us, young and old,” Wally said.
My heart is breaking.
Jack Pinto was precious. Kind, strong and brave, he was a bright light, taken too soon.
This town will never get over his loss.
andrea.peyser@nypost.com
