Saturday, December 15, 2012

We Can't Be Silent About Sandy Hook



It's 2:30 in the morning, and I am commenting on every blog I see that posts on the tragedy of Sandy Hook today. I'm like a woman who's lost her mind--I need to honor and remember and cry tears over tender lives so tragically lost. I'm on a mission to read and leave words and say, yes, those children were here, to recognize their lives--even though I know it changes nothing; for me, it's doing something.

How can we say nothing? How can we write nothing? How can we go on to our next day and not talk about how the earth stood still today?

The twenty children of Newtown that we've lost--so very small, the youngest in the school, at that wonderful tooth-missing-in-the-front age. Just learning how to sound out words, just learning how to write their names. How can we not cry until our tears are gone?

The teachers and staff killed, standing against a monster gunman, taking their place as best as they could, in the way of the shooter, knowing our job is to protect the little ones.

We are to care for our smallest ones, not murder them. They're so little--they need our protection. They're so small--they can't take on what we can. They trust and count on us, and their lives weren't meant for a madman to come into their school while they paint in reds, blues, and yellows, while they practice their songs for the holiday concert, while they make a special card to take home that day and give to their mothers and fathers. There's not supposed to be a bad guy who walks through the hallways of their school firing away at them until their sweet,young life is gone.

They're children, their last thoughts would be of what is most precious to them; Christmas, Hanukkah, for their parents right at that moment when they've never been more scared in their lives. Their last thoughts, of the mama and dad that love them; their last thoughts, of I don't want to die.

I can't make sense of this. Where will a town find twenty little coffins? What funeral homes can accommodate services for so many children. I cry for the parents, running to the school as if they themselves were on fire, hearts pounding, praying out loud, please let my baby be safe, please let my baby be safe.

I think of the nightmare the parents find when they get to the school, seeing other children reunited with their joyfully relieved parents, but their child nowhere in sight. I think of the dizzying disbelief and denial as they keep looking, praying, frantically scanning the crowd of screaming, crying children for the face of their own. I think of them, ushered to a different area than the general one--the one specified for children unaccounted for.

I think of the words they hear, how their knees must have buckled, when they were told to go home and wait--while others weren't; their hearts wrenched to return to a house where they look at and wonder if the Christmas gifts wrapped under the tree will be opened by the child they were bought for. How their child began Hanukkah with them, and now, is not there for its last day tomorrow. My mind wants to scream as I think of the holiday cards that have already been sent out--showing full families that now no longer exist.

It's been 15 hours since I first heard the news, I thought I would have run out of tears by now.

But they just keep flowing, and I've given up trying to fight them back.

Heaven became a little more loud, a little more joyous today. Can you hear it? The sound of the most beautiful voices of angels entering your gates today to run through your golden grasses.




***

To the families in this incomprehensible loss, let us share your burden, let us cry our tears over your unimaginable devastation.

You have a nation of love behind you, around you, underneath you.
 
Our prayers, our broken hearts, our hope that this senselessness stops are with you, and your eternally beautiful children.

 We are so sorry.



 photo credit: horizontal.integration via photopin cc
 

68 comments:

  1. So sad and so senseless. Even with all the loss, I can't stop thinking about the children that will have to enter the school again and how they will feel, after everything that's happened. Will they ever feel safe?

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  2. I haven't seen a single picture. I can't when the words alone have kept me awake, made me cry, gotten me angry enough to rant about guns on my site.

    I wish I could un-know this.

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  3. I am laying next to my girls and crying. Those babies. Those precious babies.

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  4. dang it...its 721 am and you have me crying again...i thought i was going to make it and that bit about heaven getting a little louder...

    i just dont understand...how little kids...how we did not see it coming...why its easier to get a handgun than it is to get mental health assistance...

    i just dunno

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  5. Trying to understand something we will never understand. Devastated. Praying. xo

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  6. I weep because this is a beautiful post. I weep because we shouldn't HAVE to be writing about this. It kills me inside that this had to happen at all -- that this has to happen ever.

    Oh, the brokenness. Those precious babies. You're right -- heaven is a little louder.

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  7. Thank you for writing this. It's just too hard, I can't.

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  8. I had to step away yesterday. Today I am doing what you did. Writing and reading and trying to make some sense. It's times like these I try and remember how to use my hands. Thank you for this post.

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  9. You voice the thoughts that are agony within me.

    It's harder to breathe today, isn't it?

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  10. Tears. Just tears. And brokenness, everywhere.
    I love you, Alexandra. Just needs to be said, because life is short and abrupt. xo

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  11. i can't stop crying today. I feel like the whole world needs to cry today.

    i love you.

    a.

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  12. Thank you for writing this, Alexandra.

    I cannot convey in words how deeply sad and soul-broken I feel.

    You said it all for me.

    Love you, friend.

    xo

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    Replies
    1. Liz: my hearts feels like someone picked it up and smashed it.

      A child's last minutes in the world spent in violence?

      That's what kills me.

      I love you.

      Delete
  13. My mind is going in all directions today. I just can't wrap my brain around it. How? Why? What now?
    There are no answers today, only sadness and love.

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  14. Thank you all for reading, and creating a community for everyone today. I'm having a very hard time, and I'm not sure what else to do.

    I can't imagine the loss of a child, but the loss of a child to en masse violence??

    My heart stays frozen, as I know what those little children thought, right to the end: please, I want my family. Please, I want my family.

    Thank you.

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  15. Such beautiful words for such a horribly ugly, horrific situation that defies any words to describe it. The only peace we can find is that those innocent children are now more at peace than we are. We're left to grapple with the questions and the pain, neither of which will ever be answered.

    Take comfort in the "good" and choose to see the light, as it's all that we have with each other. Beautiful post, my friend!

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  16. I'm so overwhelmed to be reading this. I felt the need to post on it and momentarily wondered if it was the right/smart thing to do but that was instantly washed away. I agree, how can we not. What else is there to do than to talk about it and let it all out. All of the heart wrenching, soul crushing confusion and feeling of loss.

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  17. Thank you for this, Alexandra.

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  18. My heart is breaking. Not only do I teach kindergarten, I live in CT. Yesterday before I heard the news We were singing We were cheering. We were giggling. I was showing them how to leap. That is what a kindergarten class should sound like.

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    1. Dear anonymous: how I wish I knew you. This is what I think: this is what I see them doing.

      Delete
  19. I posted on this, too. Yesterday afternoon when I was waiting for my heart to step off the school bus. I couldn't NOT write, though I barely edited. Just had to put it out there the only way my soul works, in words.

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  20. I don't have children. And I am devastated. I cried at the supermarket when I saw little kids, I cried on the phone with my sister, with my best friend. My only wish, my only hope, is that because the children were so little, they didn't totally understand. That they might have thought it was a game, or a trick or something other than what it was. My only wish, my only hope, is that they didn't know, unlike the adults around them, that they were going to die.

    God help us all.

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    Replies
    1. Suzy, I think over and over: why do we have multi click weapons that are legal? Why would an average person need a multi click weapon??

      Delete
  21. Everything you've said -- everything -- has been running through my mind since I first heard the news. Though I'm a parent, I think mostly of the teachers. I know that this is because I am one, and I was at school with MY students when the news first starting coming in. I can't help but think of my own school and classroom -- where would we go? How would I hide them? How could I keep my students safe?

    The tragically ironic (coincidental?) thing is that on Wednesday we were informed to review intruder lockdown procedures with our students because on Monday we would have a drill. And then there was yesterday...and I know on Monday when I have my students herded into corners that aren't in lines of sight, I'll think of those lost teachers and students who lived -- and died -- in the real thing.

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  22. I'm so sad. I just can't stop crying. I'm not the mom hugging her child today I'm the one still in bed crying off and on and just can't get up. How can I have a regular weekend with my family with all those families are going through? How can I eat and sleep and go? It feels so wrong.

    You're right. I too can't be silent and have to write. Because that's the only thing I know how to do.

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  23. I knew you would find the words...the hauntingly beautiful gut wrenching words...xoxox

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  24. Just beautiful, Alexandra. I couldn't think about the parents running to the school to find their children, the Christmas photo cards, the presents whose wrappings will not get ripped to shreds this Dec. 25 because I knew I would fall apart. You were so brave to put yourself through this in words, and to share so beautifully what all of us would want to say if we knew just how to do it.

    I feel a bit numb today. I'm catching up on various readings related to the incident, and for some reason I can't cry. Maybe I'm afraid to go there again.

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  25. this is beautifully put, all of it. how i wish posts like this never needed to be written.

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  26. My tears won't stop either. Thank you for writing this beautiful piece in honor of those families. I thought about all the unopened Christmas gifts, too. I am so sad that somthing like this could ever happen, and I can't fathom that terrible emptiness those families have today.

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  27. I've spent most of the last day talking to people about ways to avoid having this happen in the future. The subject may not be what people want to discuss right now, but peoples' willingness to engage in the debate was encouraging: http://rlbrody.com/2012/12/15/a-calm-rational-discussion-about-guns-in-america-c-2012/

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    Replies
    1. How about this. Require an essay question on WHY YOU NEED TO PURCHASE A SEMI AUTOMATIC WEAPON???

      They require essays to get into college, how about to purchase a weapon? TELL US WHY YOU NEED TO HAVE A SEMI AUTOMATIC WEAPON.

      Delete
  28. I'm there in the heartbreak.

    I found someone mentioning that they're going to not just hold their own children tighter, but try to dedicate an act of kindness, where kindness is often missing, for each one of those little lives taken away. I don't know if I'm prepared for that dedication today...but if I can get myself together, I want to try to do something similar, soon. How else to combat the hopelessness and nihilism that makes these things happen? I don't know.

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    Replies
    1. This might be the answer, Neal. Seriously: kindness. We need to show kindness. I've read in so many places that just ONE PERSON who matters in someone's life can make that difference in their world

      So many questions.

      I say we try with kindness, kindness--the balm of hurt souls.

      Delete
  29. I didn't sleep and all I've thought of all day.. All night.. With every smile from Gio and Jacob. I am helpless and without words.. I cannot believe this horror, this senseless act of hate or despair. I don't know how we are heal from this.. I cannot think of the parents or I start sobbing... I cannot think of this hate and not start cursing.. And I cannot believe I will ever forget this day.. As my children grow older with every birthday I know I will remember the babies who have no more birthdays.

    I am a parent. I am hurting and I send ally love, all my prayers... All my comfort to the parents of these babies.

    And my awe, my pride, my love of those teachers who gave those lives for those babies.

    Love you A. Xo

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  30. I heard about this murderous rampage while I was at school.

    I work at an Elementary School. K-5

    I felt my knees go weak, my body go cold.

    This could have been any school in any city. It could have been our school: Laura MacArthur Elementary.

    WE MUST NOT BE SILENT.

    Yet, what are we going to do about it?

    WHAT? What?

    As for me, I want MORE gun control.

    Btw, we told several people about Kay's husband.

    In an interview, I said "There were MANY signs, but what can we do about signs?"

    I am sure when I go to school on Monday, there will be a staff meeting about more Lock Downs.

    I am willing to do anything I can to make the changes that need to be made.

    Xx Ohhh, and LOTS of prayer. By God, Our country needs it.



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    1. Yes, just as 911 brought changes to our then laughable lax systems in place for entering the US, I hope this results in lock down practices, more quickly streamed communication, tighter gun control. I hope the most for getting some sort of guidelines for the VIOLENT video games and recommendations of what happens when you spend hours desensitizing yourself to violence, when your brain watches hour upon hour of you getting points for killing....

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  31. Thank you. I too am trying to find posts and comment on them. Just put up my post a little while ago. Still finding tears. Still hugging my struggling child a little too tight. Thank you for your words.

    oxoxox

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  32. So beautiful, Alexandra.

    We definitely must not be silent or forget. We should always, always remember those 20 precious souls and their 6 teachers/heroes.

    Only comfort I can think of is that there is a whole class of 20 angels sitting near God today, his arms wrapped around them, welcoming them home. And they are loud and joyous, so happy and in pain no more.

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    1. My picture of them today, too.

      I can't stop myself from crying without that picture of them running free now. No longer in the fear they had. All memory gone, erased--living out eternally now, in solace and peace, until we see them again.

      Delete
  33. I cannot believe that a kindergarten classroom began a normal morning and ended up below the depths of anything we can even comprehend--that tonight there are grade school kids woefully less innocent than I AM (and will pray-to-God ever be).

    The parents? The community? How does one walk back into that school?

    Too many feelings to list.

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  34. I am as, what is the word... stopped in my tracks as you are. I lost a couple of readers because of my post today, and I considered deleting it, but closed mindedness and an unwillingness to think about WHY WHY WHY and just go back to living our lives is in no small part the problem. I agree with you... we can't be silent.

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  35. Y There are no words.

    I don't watch the news, ever, because of things like this. There is not one thing I can to to help. Not one thing. And there is not one thing I can do to prevent it here. Not one thing.

    If our job is protecting, and there is no way to protect from madness and from horrible luck, then how do we let them leave the house each day?

    My rage and fear andsorrow have no end. But I have no right to that, because real rage and fear and sorrow belong to the families whose every breath is now unthinkable.

    That's why I never ever ever watch the news. Because when I do, the impotence of watching devastation is devastating.

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  36. I could not believe when I first read the news about this. At first it sounded liked 1 person but when the I saw how many I was so stunned. And then reading mostly kids in kindergarten I just cried (which doesn't come easily to me). I could not even watch the news on it Saturday. I kept picturing my own kids at that age and my great nephew who is that age and could not imagine what those parents were going through. The whole thing was just unimaginable. And how do we prevent it from happening again? I don't have any answers.

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  37. We HAVE to stop taking God out of the school. We need prayer, we need love, we need rules like Thou shalt not kill taught to everyone. When will this country see that we are going in the wrong direction???

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  38. I love you, Alexandra. It is impossible to understand...

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  39. I heard about this well after it happened, since I don't watch TV or listen to talk radio. And then... I made the deliberate decisions to avoid seeing the photos or reading the news reports of it. Because it is already my constant nightmare. I already have the details of Columbine and other attacks seared into my brain. I grieve for the parents whose lives will never be the same. And I feel frustrated that we can't see our way clear to stricter gun control laws and better funding to allow for access to mental health services for those who need it. I do NOT believe prayer in public schools is the answer, though. We need more tolerance of diverging beliefs, not less.

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  40. I have said or written nothing except a prayer on my xtra blog because it has rendered me speechless. The litany in my head: This is the worst thing ever...The most heartless, the most Evil. I have cried my eyes out imagining those poor babies and the horror to their parents. This has caused our entire nation pain and grief. It has put us in a place of wondering how we can allow ourselves to live on and celebrate the season. How can we have Joy? How can we have faith in the face of something like this? And that is what Evil does. It tries to destroy these things. We must not let it. Though I am still working towards getting there myself.

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  41. Alexandra, I just have no words. I had to turn off social media and the television on Friday. I could not comprehend this at all. I sat with my sick baby, and I prayed for all those babies and the teachers. I prayed for my two little girls who are so innocent and loved at their preschool/daycare. Heaven is a little brighter and a little sweeter now with all those angels.

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    Replies
    1. That's how I have to see it to, Jenn: just like that.

      With them, in a sweet ethereal place, until we are with them again.

      Delete
  42. Oh. Thank you for writing it all out, Alexandra!

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  43. I am normally not an emotional person but the sadness of this makes me positively weepy. So incredibly sad for the families and the nation.

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  44. When I imagine getting to that school and seeing children paired off, for my child not to be among them? HOW THE HELL DOES ONE GET THROUGH THAT? HOW? WHY? I am furious. Tiny coffins and making funeral arrangements instead of finishing Christmas lists, instead of homework packets over the break, instead of making breakfast or lunch or favorite dinners. FUCK THIS. It is wrong. It is wrong. It is wrong. It is wrong.

    And the words on my blog I left without the ability to comment. I didn't want to take the chance someone who say all the wrong things, get to all the wrong conclusions of what I was trying to say.

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  45. I've spent the entire weekend torturing my children with too many kisses and too many hugs. It's the only way I know to cope with such a senseless act of violence against children.

    Thank you for writing this; for putting into words what we all feel.

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  46. My ability to put words to tragedy is the only time this chatterbox becomes mute. It's too much, too much. Thank you for this post.

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  47. So beautifully written. I have not run out of tears yet either.

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  48. Well said, and I too, still have tears.

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  49. It's Monday now and I still can't stay away from the news. Not because I'm looking for scraps to understand why this happened, but because, in some small way, it makes me feel like I'm saying that I know this awful thing happened and that I am aware of those victims.

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  50. It is so horrific. I wrote that post on Friday morning before this all happened. I think shock value has just come back again.

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  51. I can't make sense of it either. My heart is breaking.
    xoxox jj

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  52. I've been speechless. I finally posted about it today. I was with you, couldn't stop crying. I would sit down to write and nothing. The post today is actually partly from Friday afternoon, Saturday and Sunday. I am with you. Heartbroken and tearful.

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  53. I can't stop thinking about it and I can't make sense of any of it either. Like you, I keep replaying the scene where parents are reunited with their babies, some not as lucky as others. There's an image of a gray-haired man who rests his head on the top of his car and weeps. I can't get it out of my mind.

    XOXO

    There's no good to come from this, but it's a reminder of how fleeting and precious life really is. Hug your boys just a wee bit tighter this holiday season.

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  54. This so well written. I am still reeling in my heart and my head still can't wrap around this.

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  55. This is beautiful and exactly how we all felt. My own tribute wasn't as poignant, but you were right - how can you NOT write about it?

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  56. Right there with you.

    I really enjoyed this today and found it helpful:

    "Finding holiday joy after tragedy: grieve in the third person, embrace your luck, welcome every moment. The Motherlode: http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/19/the-holidays-after-a-tragedy/?smid=tw-NYTMotherlode&seid=auto"

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  57. It's been days since the tragedy. My mind is still screaming "WHAT IN GOD's NAME JUST HAPPENED HERE?" Born in 1962 I spent my Christmas as a six year old listening to a children's record called "The Littlest Angel". I wish I could hear it again today!

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  58. I have not read any posts about SH until today, because well, because. This is not only close to home, Newtown is my home. Thank you for writing, and keeping us alive with your words.

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