Friday, December 14, 2012

A Moment of Silence.

It's very hard for me to write this right now. To sit here and publicly post on my little space on the internet about a tragedy that will be talked about for weeks to come. A tragedy that surrounds all of the social media. A tragedy that will one day be placed in the history books. One that our children will one day read about.

The thing is, it's not about me, my pain, or my heart ache. My tears are not about me. Not for others to feel sorry for me. Not for attention to be drawn to me. It has nothing to do with me. Nor does it have anything to do with you, you, or you.

I was in the car. Driving home from what was a beautiful and thoughtful shower thrown for my husband by his fellow co-workers. We had a great time. We enjoyed one another. We watched Elliana show off her skills at throwing balls, counting "duckies", and out-laughing everyone else in the room.

I kissed my husband goodbye, and waved him off as he walked back to work. Elliana and I were on our way home when my husband called to tell me the news.

27 dead. 18 children dead. Shooting. Elementary school.

It's numbing. It is horrific. There is a lot to be said about those short few words that were spoken over the phone. And at the same time, it's so real.

I won't turn on the news. I refuse to read anymore facebook, twitter, or any other social media chat out there about today. It's going to be the topic of the day. All you will hear about is how much pain everyone is in. How angry they are. Gun control. Mental illness. Something must be done.

People are furious. People are sad. People are waving their arms in the air. They are demanding change. Demanding law changes. Screaming for help.

But those same people? Their lives will go on.

In no time, maybe hours, days, or a week, they will have forgotten. They will be able to laugh again. They will be able to enjoy the holidays. They will read bedtime stories to their kids, and be able to kiss them goodnight. They will post pictures on instagram of the meal they cooked, the outfits they wore, or the things that came in the mail. They will continue on with their lives.

And by they? I mean all of us. The public. The outraged public. We, as hard as this may be to say right now, will have moved on. Maybe not forgotten, but moved on.

But, lets talk about those families. Those children. Those that are affected.

This is absolutely the worst time of their life. This has literally torn their world apart. Nothing will ever be the same. No one can bring their children home to them. No more bedtime stories. No more kisses goodnight. The presents underneath the tree? Will merely be a reminder of what will never be again.

So as we go on about our day, think about those families that have to now learn how to go on in this scary world we live in.

Think about when will they be able to laugh again. When will they ever be able to enjoy the holidays again. Think about how they will ever learn how to put one foot in front of the other. How to sleep through the night. How to breathe. Without their children. Those children that they have fought so hard to protect from the evils of our world. Those children that were so innocently taken out of this world by that same evil.

Think about the families. Pray for the families. Close your eyes and take just a moment of silence. Take this day to devote to these families and children. Go hug your children. Go hug your husbands. Go hold those that you love close to you. Sit by the fire. Look at old pictures. Smile for those families that have now lost their smiles and laughter to this tragedy.

Forget about the gun control. Forget about mental illness. Forget about your pain, our pain. It's not about any of us. Not now.

Pray for the families and that one day, they will find life again.

**Comments turned off.

 photo copyright.jpg
blogger template by envye