No Words


There are no words for the grief and sadness we all feel over what happened in Connecticut on Friday. Every time I try to think of the right thing to say about it on this dog-and-pony-show blog, I come up with nothing because there just are no words.

So, instead, here are a few of my thoughts–the thoughts of a now-scared first-time mommy to a little girl who will be on her way to kindergarten in a few years. The thoughts of an aunt, who has nieces in elementary school. The thoughts of a cousin and a friend, who knows other kids that age and parents who are also scared. And the thoughts of a person who just can’t get over the fact that those poor babies–because they were all babies–were taken away from their families for no good reason.

It makes my heart hurt.

It doesn’t make sense to me–this awful violence–and although I want to tell myself that this person who is responsible had a definite mental illness, I can’t get past my anger right now. To kill babies is to be a coward and to be incredibly frank, if he hadn’t killed himself, I would have hoped the death penalty would have done the job (and that’s from someone who typically rides the fence on that issue). I don’t know what beef he had with his mom–nor do I care. She shouldn’t have had to die and neither should those little souls, who were so innocent, have had to.

Something clearly wasn’t right with this person. And no one saw it? Maybe that’s just my anger talking.

Now everyone is talking about gun control and safety at schools. Issues that definitely need to be talked about as a result of what happened, but let’s give the families time before we turn this into a whole political fiasco. Those poor parents and loved ones said goodbye to their kids, spouses, friends in the morning and let them go to school because why would anything horrific happen at an elementary school? And now they’ll never see any of them again. So sad.

I am saddened by the loss of the principal and the other staff that were lost–their families never getting to say goodbye.

My heart hurts for the babies that were lost–and their parents and loved ones for the pain they must feel. I can’t imagine losing our Zoey. I just can’t. She is a part of Greg and I–like a limb or the very beating of our hearts. If something happened to her (God forbid), I can’t imagine we’d know how to face it or how to live with it.

And for the parents who said goodbye to those babies like every other school morning and then had to get the dreaded phone call or saw it on the news, heard it from wherever, and rushed to the school only to find out it was too late. As a parent of a little one, and just as a human being, just know that so much love and comfort and strength is being sent your way.

But my heart also hurts for all of the babies that were there and survived too. The ones that saw the tragedy, that heard the sounds, that felt the fear. The pictures on the news say it all–the little girl crying as a line of kids rushing to safety with police; the boy with his hands over his mouth in just sheer shock. Those poor babies have so much to deal with–so much that no one their age should ever have to face mentally. I pray every one of them gets the comfort and counseling they need.

There’s no reason for all of this. There’s just no words–only questions. Why? Why? WHY?

Friday night, when I got home from work, everyone on Facebook was posting about what had happened and while I was reading everyone’s statuses, Zoey came up to me and asked me to play with her. Without hesitation, I closed our laptop and went out in the kitchen with her to bounce a ball–a simple activity that meant the world to her. If anything, let this horrific tragedy make you spend every single minute you can with your children. Kiss them. Hold them. Tell them you love them–even if they think you’re just being weird.

We didn’t let Zoey see much of the news coverage–at her age, she doesn’t understand any of it other than seeing little kids crying and scared on TV. She seems to be very sensitive to people who are sad and I know she’d worry if she saw the kids on TV. She doesn’t need that. So, we waited until she went to bed and then Greg and I stood in the middle of the living room, holding hands, watching the coverage, tears streaming down our faces.

There are no words. Just sadness.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to everyone connected to the tragedy in Connecticut.


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