Like so many others, I read the news about the latest tragedy with a lump in my heart. I debated about writing, but then read the words of very wise person who said something similar, and then followed it up with “But writing is healing, and we all need healing.”
I have attempted to avoid the news. After reading so much, and then pushing it all away. But it kept coming up, everywhere I went, everywhere I look. Breaking news. Pictures. Names. Faces. It was all there, and I couldn’t look away. The pain on the faces of the multiple parents, siblings, adults and children alike. It said more than the words themselves. Reading the names. Seeing the pictures. Finalized in my mind that this wasn’t JUST another tragedy. There were faces. Names. Kids. Young kids. And it all seems so senseless.
Some gloss over, others pass the blame. Everyone is looking for answers.
I searched the faces for any hope. Knowing the pain of loosing a child, but not knowing the pain of loosing a child in such a horrific way. No loss is the same, no loss of a child is the same. And while I stand firm in the “Do not compare loss” camp, there is something especially difficult about this to grasp. For me, atleast.
School. Is a place where kids go to learn. Not to be killed. Not to die. Not to say good bye to their parents and siblings. Little 1st graders, learning. I don’t know if it comes more innocent than that. To send your young child to school – and receive the news that they are not going to be coming home later that day, does a number on me.
All weekend I have been looking for something. Something that I wasn’t even sure what was. Until I saw it.
The hope. In the sadness.
Listening to the speech the father gave about his young daughter who was killed that horrible day, gave me hope. Hope that while broken and hurt, and swung upside down – he will be ok.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the hurt of other people, that I fail to see the outcome. I hurt for them. In ways that I cant explain. I don’t understand completely what they are going through, only to an extent. And yet like so many other people – I too am helpless. I have no words. I have nothing to offer. Yet somehow, when the young girls father addressed the millions of people watching – he gave what he probably feels like he doesnt even have.
His words were not fake. They were genuine real words coming from a broken father. Offering what little he had left. Hope.
While I know it is going to be a long and brutal road for so many MANY people, parents, children, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends, I know they will be ok. Somehow, they have hope through the tears and heartache.
“Let it not turn into something that defines us, but something that inspires us to be better, to be more compassionate and more humble people.” – Robbie Parker
Hope, that inspires others.