As I previously mentioned, I don’t watch or read the news anymore.
Some things though, you can’t avoid hearing about. I haven’t read any articles or watched any coverage because it would bring me to my knees. But facts trickle through my armor: assault weapons, numbers, kindergartners. Babies. They were just babies.
I don’t believe in hell, but sometimes I almost hope it’s real. Then, I stop and wonder – was he already living in his own personal hell? What other explanation could there possibly be?
Several times I’ve broken down crying, unexpectedly. Last night I had a horrible nightmare that Zoey had gone missing in a public place, taken away from me by some cruel, unknown person. I woke up shaken and couldn’t get my arms around her fast enough. I knew where the dream had come from.
When you become a parent the whole world suddenly knows your deepest fear, your greatest weakness. That child is your everything, your very heart, beating outside your body. I can’t even begin to imagine what those parents are going through. My mind starts to think about Christmas presents, wrapped and waiting under a tree for a child that will never open them, and I just…there are no words.
The realist in me says this won’t be the last time we hear about such a horrific event, but the parent in me, the human, needs to hope that it is. I have to focus on the joy and life in my own children, focus on making their every moment count as much as possible. I want to give them as many smiles and magical, special moments as possible and hope that they will be memories that will last them through a very, very long lifetime.
So, let us have a little Christmas and through our joy and love for our children honor those 26 beautiful, innocent lives.