For Much Later: a story of loss

There are very few things in life for which there are no words that can adequately express our emotions.  Words don't usually fail me. But the senseless tragedy that occurred last week in Connecticut leaves me absolutely speechless.  I have spent the weekend praying for families I have never met.  Putting myself in their place...because I need to.  And then quickly yanking myself back into reality, where I still get to hold my babies.  For reasons I cannot begin to comprehend, God has called home 20 of his most innocent little ones, all of them Sydney's age, and 7 who tried to protect them.  It doesn't matter if they ever find the motive behind this madness.  There is no earthly reason that something like this should happen.  I cannot even begin to imagine the pain, anger and sense of loss that the families affected are feeling.  And I am so thankful to be able to say that.  

At dinner today I had all four of my children in our home.  Safe and sound.  I am wavering between guilt that our immediate family is whole, and praising God that it is so.  That's really the point.  I never want a reminder like this again that we are blessed to have each other and that we need to make the most of our time together.  There is no time for anger, resentment, bitterness, grudges, pettiness, or hurt feelings.  Life is short.  Sometimes way too short.  Parenthood brought with it an instant, ever-present fear that something awful could happen to one of my babies.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't acknowledge that fear.  But I do my best to use it as motivation to savor every moment of every day.  So when I take too many photos or I am way behind in laundry, try to understand.  Someday you will likely enter this glorious role of motherhood and learn firsthand that there is only so much you can shield your children from.  Nobody is guaranteed a long, happy, healthy life. It's so important to me to be present and in the moment with you girls.  

I've been a mess these few days.  I cried watching Sydney's bus drive away this morning.  I cried over a half-mast flag.  I can barely watch the news, but I feel I owe it to their mommas to hear their stories.  It's the very least we can do.   While I am planning Christmas parties, their families are planning funerals.  Those children should be writing letters to Santa and planning their strategy for staying up late enough to catch a glimpse of him.  Their families should be baking cookies and wrapping presents.  If I'm not careful, I let myself fall down the rabbit-hole of this thought process and really let myself "go there."  The pain of "imagining" is so intense that the reality must be earth-shattering.  To say that it's "unfair" or "senseless" or "evil" is obvious and unnecessary.  There's no way to make sense of it.  There's nothing that can be said or done.

I sincerely hope that by the time you are able to read this that schools are a safe place again. I hope that fear doesn't rule our society, but that common sense does.  I hope that I have raised you to treat everyone who crosses your path with kindness and respect.  You never know what they've been through and what state they are in.  And more than anything, I hope that you never have to experience a fraction of the sorrow these families are immersed in.  I will always do my best to see that it's so, but at this moment I am acutely aware that there are some things that are out of even a mom's all-encompassing, nurturing, capable hands.  And that's a hard thing to come to terms with.  

Sleep peacefully my little one.  Tomorrow will be a great day, and we will make the most of it.  We will do it for those babies and their families who would give anything for one more day.  It won't be wasted on us.