This post was written on the night after the horrible school shooting in Newtown, CT.
I let my emotions get the best of me, but it was necessary.
All of it.
To see what happened in our world today; not a lick of sense in it.
Who walks into a school - A SCHOOL - and does something like this?
Who takes the lives of precious children into their own hands like this?
What's wrong with our world that an individual with this violent agenda can walk into a school and do this to our kids? Our babies? Someone's CHILD.
This is fucked up. Beyond belief.
We're upset. We're pissed. We're angry. We're crying.
Picture of the guy who did it? Sure - I'll check him out.
Thousands upon thousands of people shared the image that was *supposedly* him on Facebook. I seriously mean thousands. I saw it. I clicked some news reporter's link on Twitter and I saw it. And I felt sick. And you know what? I still don't even know if that was him.
The reports changed. It was his brother. He killed his mother, his father, his mom's students.
What the HELL is wrong with people?
People are talking about where we failed this 20-something year old man. As a society. As a country. State. Nation. Whatever you want to call us.
I honestly don't know.
Right now I'm awful, because I honestly don't give a shit.
I can't understand his actions and I am glad he's gone. But then the part of me that is a mother wants to know why he doesn't get to suffer. Why parents don't get their justice.
But would there even BE justice? What sort of justice comes to someone who shoots up a room full of kindergarteners?
Do you know my baby is in kindergarten?
She is. It's her first year of school.
I'm shielding her from all of this. Many people won't be that lucky.
Many moms and dads tonight are holding their babies so closely. Their babies who today walked, eyes closed shut, hand to shoulder (you've seen the pictures, haven't you? Who the hell shared those picture) away from danger into who knew where. Who knew?
The grown-ups taking care of them didn't know. They just did what they knew to do. They protected those small beings as best they could.
I can't even begin to imagine the loss. The ache. The pain. I can't begin to think of what the parents who dropped their kids off this morning, walked them to the bus stop and ran their final steps, blowing kisses, quick hugs, here's your backpack - what are these people even thinking? How do you stop crying when this happens to you? How do you begin to believe again? To trust?
Do you? Do you ever? Is there a faith that brings strength to people during such a hell? Something magical that lifts them up and lets them move forward? How do you be a mother or father to your other children when one of yours hasn't come home? How do you teach their brothers, sisters, that they will be safe, even though their sibling was not?
What happens then? What does school represent? A place of learning, turned sour. Solid framework, so much of our lives, our childhood, our memories, gone. Shattered. Do you build that back up somehow?
I sure hope so. Because if there isn't a way I don't even know where to begin.
I think of these moms and dads tonight. Curled up in the darkness holding their loved ones close. I pray for strength and light, and I send love and healing. I don't know what else to do. I'm not really a praying person. I'm usually one who sends positive thoughts. But I need something to hold onto tonight. Something that reminds me that there has to be a hope, a strength, a greater something somewhere.
Because this? Today? Whatever it was - it was wrong. Horribly, terribly, all kinds of wrong.
And I'm sad. I hurt. It pains me.
And I would love answers for us all, but I don't think we'll get them. Because the mean man is gone. Or, as I believe, we should try to define him to our children, should we choose to approach the topic with them, the man who did a very bad thing. It's hard when you're trying to teach kids that behaviors are not nice, behaviors are mean, people aren't. But today he is. The mean man is gone. And it's all gone with him.
Including those children. Those adults who were there with them - I don't forget them.
But as a mom of a young child, it's the children that are foremost in my mind. I just cannot stop seeing the children I have never known, will never truly know. Because they could have been anyone's. They could have been yours. They could have been mine. That is the scariest freakin' thought ever and it's really hard to move past.
So instead I wallow a little bit, and I hug my baby about nine hundred times tonight. Because she's here and I love her and she's safe and she's mine.
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