Newtown Destroyed
Yesterday was December 14, 2012. That was the day that 12 little girls, 8 little boys (all aged 6 to7), and 6 teachers were mercilessly gunned to death by a madman.
Yesterday, I didn't want to talk about it. As soon as the news broke-which was 7:00am West Coast Time, I turned off the TV and the radio, and went out for the day. I tuned out and turned off for the day. I was not absorbing what had happened. I didn't want to have to see what had gone so horribly wrong in a sleepy little Connecticut town two hour's drive from my childhood home.
Then in the early afternoon, I turned on NPR just in time to hear President Obama, speaking live from the Rose Garden, address the massacre. Through the radio I could hear the emotion in his voice. I wept, I sobbed. I suddenly realized, as he was speaking, that there were 20 moms and 20 dads that would not have their children with them this Christmas. Santa would not be coming for these kids. There was no more sled, no more reindeer, and no more milk and cookies ritual for these families.
My daughter is 6, and she still has most of her baby teeth. There are 20 moms, and 20 dads that will no longer be celebrating the coming of the tooth fairy. There is no more Easter Bunny. There is no more magic. These families are left with grief and rage, in the place of love and joy.
There are 6 adults dead today as well. All of them women. They were someone's wife, mother, sister, "bestie". They will not be going home. They will never get to cook another Christmas dinner, or complain about doing the holiday dishes, or get to stuff mountains of wrapping paper and ribbons in the trash bin ever again. Their families will miss these brave, heroic women so very deeply. The Principal, the school counselor, four dedicated teachers who desperately tried to save the lives of the children in their care.
As a mother, I am now grief-stricken, horrified, and frightened. I have spent a lot of time thinking about those 20 moms and those 20 dads, and weeping for them...I have a first grader too. This could have been an elementary school anywhere in the USA. Sandy Hook Elementary is a small school in a small town. Newtown, Connecticut was one of the few bastions of tranquil sub-rural life left in America. It could have been my daughter's school. It could have been my town. It could have been anyone's town.
Yesterday, I didn't want to talk about it. As soon as the news broke-which was 7:00am West Coast Time, I turned off the TV and the radio, and went out for the day. I tuned out and turned off for the day. I was not absorbing what had happened. I didn't want to have to see what had gone so horribly wrong in a sleepy little Connecticut town two hour's drive from my childhood home.
Then in the early afternoon, I turned on NPR just in time to hear President Obama, speaking live from the Rose Garden, address the massacre. Through the radio I could hear the emotion in his voice. I wept, I sobbed. I suddenly realized, as he was speaking, that there were 20 moms and 20 dads that would not have their children with them this Christmas. Santa would not be coming for these kids. There was no more sled, no more reindeer, and no more milk and cookies ritual for these families.
My daughter is 6, and she still has most of her baby teeth. There are 20 moms, and 20 dads that will no longer be celebrating the coming of the tooth fairy. There is no more Easter Bunny. There is no more magic. These families are left with grief and rage, in the place of love and joy.
There are 6 adults dead today as well. All of them women. They were someone's wife, mother, sister, "bestie". They will not be going home. They will never get to cook another Christmas dinner, or complain about doing the holiday dishes, or get to stuff mountains of wrapping paper and ribbons in the trash bin ever again. Their families will miss these brave, heroic women so very deeply. The Principal, the school counselor, four dedicated teachers who desperately tried to save the lives of the children in their care.
As a mother, I am now grief-stricken, horrified, and frightened. I have spent a lot of time thinking about those 20 moms and those 20 dads, and weeping for them...I have a first grader too. This could have been an elementary school anywhere in the USA. Sandy Hook Elementary is a small school in a small town. Newtown, Connecticut was one of the few bastions of tranquil sub-rural life left in America. It could have been my daughter's school. It could have been my town. It could have been anyone's town.
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