Can you imagine hearing that your child will never be coming home? To look at presents underneath the tree or the unwrapped gifts waiting for every night with the lighting of Menorah...never to be opened. Not ever to hold a tiny body against yours, breathing into the fresh child like smell on top of their heads, and to feel their little hearts beat against yours. To ring in a New Year's without ever seeing your child smile, laugh, or talk again? To look at your other children, nephews, nieces, and cousins, or family members, and tell them that their brother or sister or grandchild or cousin or niece or nephew is eternally gone. To bury your own child?
No, I can't fathom the lives that were lost yesterday, and the grief that has bloomed through the community. This is yet another sobering reminder that a human life is fragile, and precious. Every day, we hear, and see deaths on the news all over the world. It affects everybody; rich or poor, straight or gay, black or white, and a devout and an atheist.
For this to happen again is heartbreaking. Perhaps, this is time for us to reassess what is going on in our country, and take steps toward preventive care.
My heart breaks for those who are affected by the tragedy. I am very sad for them.
Last night, Stu, and I went to Oshkosh Light of Festival; we introduced Forrest to Santa Claus for the very first time, and there was a mixture of quiet sadness, and muted happiness. We looked upon our son, and silently thanked the stars for our little boy. A little voice inside me was unable to help, but weep for lost lives of those children, and the broken families. I picked up my son, and embraced his little squirmy body against mine.
As sobering, and sad this news was, it served as a profound reminder to hold on to those people you love, and to tell them that you love them.