Newtown shooting

Published December 15, 2012 by Kim

My family and I live hundreds of miles from Connecticut–even so, when the story broke, I felt such horror and anger as to come very close to pulling my own son out early from school. The news sickened me, quite literally, to the point of gagging in the bathroom and trying to hold in the tears while I worked. I sat for most of the evening with my little ones on my lap, each taking a turn snuggling up to mommy, knowing something was amiss, but not knowing what.

I cannot express my heartache and rage. Parents who cannot even claim the bodies of their young children, waiting for the investigation to wrap up, evidence be collected, and clearance be given to remove the remains from the classrooms. Parents who made breakfast this morning, bought or packed lunches, checked homework, snagged a quick hug and kiss…

And now there are presents that will never be opened, pictures with Santa that won’t ever be taken, Christmas dresses and suits and ties that will never be worn, milk and cookies that won’t be set out, stockings unfilled, and houses that will fall silent, or will lack that one voice in the mix–the laughter and the fighting and the whining and the questions about everything. All of it stopped. And it won’t come back, not for Christmas or ever again, and I look at my children just one more time, tonight, and my heart physically hurts for these parents, these grandparents, and the siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends (but, oh, especially the parents!). I want to lock my babies away, keep them safe, stand between them and all the world—


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