I had big plans for today. My Bandit Creek novella Christmas on the Run is released today. Writers know how excited and nervous I am the night before. It’s thrilling, right?
BUT…
Twenty eight people are dead in a small town in Connecticut. It is hard to even consider something so trivial as the release of a novel when others are suffering so much. How do we assimilate this horror?
I saw bits and pieces of the news today from work. I left early to attend a session called “Preparing for a Colonoscopy”. Too much information, right? (By the way, it sounds disgusting.) I believe this is simply a precaution arising because of some wonky test results I had a month ago. No big deal. At least that’s what I’m assuming. I’m not going to worry until I know there’s something to worry about.
Then I took my two granddaughters to the mall to buy Christmas presents for their mom and dad. The oldest of these two little darlings is five and she’s in kindergarten. It could have been her. That’s what kept running through my mind – it could have been her. I can’t get that image out of my mind – it could have been her.
The death of a child is always horrid. My sister was killed in a car accident in 1969. She was 15. In some ways, I don’t think my mother ever recovered. The moment I heard about her death is one of those moments I will never forget. And yet, she was fifteen.
It seems different, somehow. She was older.
But it marked my family from that day forward.
I wish there were words to say, but there isn’t. We all need to assimilate the horror and the emotions in our own way.
My prayers are with the families of Sandy Hook school. As are my thoughts. God Bless
What else is there to say?
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John, thanks so much. be well
Truly touching, Louise. Cheers, Ashley
Thanks Ashley. One week later, things are still as ugly. So very sad
Beautiful, poignant post, Louise. Sometimes all we can do is feel, hurt, love and pray. Posts like this one help, too. *hugs*
Louise, Sorry I am arriving here late. Friday was a day of solace. I kept looking at my six-year-old daughter and thinking (as so many were) that could have been her. Like you, I saw what my mother went through. I don’t think there is anything that compares to the loss of a child. I keep thinking of all those families, the presents under the tree with the wee one’s names on them, it breaks my heart. There are no words any one can ever say, no action that can ever be taken that will ease their suffering. Only time can dull the ache. Yes, there are no words we can say to them, but we can pray for them, and we should. Thank you for this thoughtful post. Congratulations on your new release and good luck with your upcoming colonoscopy.
In the midst of your busy schedule, Debra, thanks for stopping by. All we can do is pray. be well
Louise, I feel the same way. The Virginia Tech campus experienced a similar tragedy five years ago. It marked the entire community. Somehow, this feels even worse. These children were so small, so helpless. I can’t imagine what their families are going through. I think back to the phrase “a moment of silence”–because sometimes, words don’t suffice, and silence is all we can offer until the shock wears off.
When I think of those little ones with multiple bullet wounds, I am nauseous. Silence and prayer are the extent of what I can offer…and hope that this never happens again.
Truly terrible. The loss of children is so horrific. There are no words.
The loss of children is horrific, Kourtney. I am grateful to be at work today so I can’t watch the news. it’s a relief somehow and the grief is not directly mine.
It’s such a terrible, confusing thing to try to comprehend. I can’t wrap my head around how anyone would think that’s a viable option for their pain. No words is right. I simply have none. My heart hurts for all those who lost a loved one on Friday.
If we could understand, we would be as ill as he was. I watch CNN until I can’t stand it for another minute and then I turn it off. Then I have to turn it back on. Watching Obama’s emotions Friday and again tongiht, and then Anderson Cooper choking up as he read the names of the deceased nearly did me in. It feels like an acceptable place to express a bit of grief without becoming overwhelmed. I watch my five year old granddaughter and felt nauseous considering what happened to those little ones. God help them all.
I’m actually more than halfway through Christmas on the Run right now. Good story! But you’re right. What is there to say? Nothing we say or do will ease the grief of those families, so all we can do is pray for them.
I’m glad you’re enjoying – you’re a quick reader. Prayer is the only option right now.
nullLouise, there are no words. We have some little ones in our family and I couldn’t help thinking of them.
I think that’s true for all of us, Jill it’s just horrible
Nothing anyone says will ease the grief. The death of the poor crazy young man won’t help. All the platitudes and sympathy won’t make a dent in the pain. Even years passing by will only help a bit. Sigh.
I totally agree, Joan. Even years only help a bit.
I’m also with you, Louise. My grand-twins are in first grade. My thoughts keep returning to those parents. Good luck with the colonoscopy.
Everything else pales in comparison to these losses. I have these horrible images in my mind. I can’t help but think of my grandchildren.
But for the grace of God go I… and my family. Yep the first thing I thought was, that could have happened at my daughter’s school. Everything else seems trivial.
Everything else is trivial, Jennette. How many times must we hear these stories? So tragic.
I’m with you, Louise. It’s hard to get excited about much right now. My grandson is 4 1/2 and of course I had the same thought. But I am putting your new book on my kindle to read over the holidays. Good luck with the colonoscopy (the prep is the worst part).
Sounds like the voice of experience, Kassandra. The prep does sound lousy.
Thank you for giving us permission to not say anything at this time…”what else is there to say?”
Tammy, there’s nothing to say. I pray. that’s all I can do.