I remember being in first grade. I remember learning to read and how to tell time. I remember everyone calling me Katie B. because there were three other Katies in my classroom. I remember making a Christmas tree for my parents by taking little squares of green tissue paper, wrapping it around the end of my pencil and gluing it to my tree cut out. It took forever but I was so proud of it. I remember loving first grade.
That is how first grade is supposed to be. How it is for soo many across our country. But for twenty children and their families last Friday, it was not. For twenty kids, they won't learn how to read or how to tell time. Santa will not visit them in eight short days and they won't feel their hearts swell with pride when they give their parents a gift they handmade on Christmas morning.
They won't feel the joy of winning, the sorrow of losing. They won't take SATs or go to college. They won't get homesick or travel to Europe. They won't fall in love or get married. They won't have children of their own. They won't know the depth of love that is parenthood.
So while those twenty beautiful children are surely safe in heaven, surrounded by love and light, they can't possibly understand how an entire nation of Moms and Dads grieve for them. How are hearts break EVERY time we see a lowered flag. How we shed tears EVERY time we watch the news. How we hide our sobs from our own living, breathing children because there is no way to explain. There is no way to understand.
I wish there was something I could do. A way to turn back time. A way to wake us all up from this nightmare because it HAS to be a nightmare. A way to take away the pain and agony that must sear and surge unbridled through the souls of those parents. The only thing more upsetting and more heart breaking than the thought of innocent children being killed are the parents and siblings who have to endure without them. I can't imagine. I. CAN'T IMAGINE. My heart is broken and I fear it will never fully recover from this tragedy. May those families find a way to heal. To go on. To endure without their beloved angels.
That is how first grade is supposed to be. How it is for soo many across our country. But for twenty children and their families last Friday, it was not. For twenty kids, they won't learn how to read or how to tell time. Santa will not visit them in eight short days and they won't feel their hearts swell with pride when they give their parents a gift they handmade on Christmas morning.
They won't feel the joy of winning, the sorrow of losing. They won't take SATs or go to college. They won't get homesick or travel to Europe. They won't fall in love or get married. They won't have children of their own. They won't know the depth of love that is parenthood.
So while those twenty beautiful children are surely safe in heaven, surrounded by love and light, they can't possibly understand how an entire nation of Moms and Dads grieve for them. How are hearts break EVERY time we see a lowered flag. How we shed tears EVERY time we watch the news. How we hide our sobs from our own living, breathing children because there is no way to explain. There is no way to understand.
I wish there was something I could do. A way to turn back time. A way to wake us all up from this nightmare because it HAS to be a nightmare. A way to take away the pain and agony that must sear and surge unbridled through the souls of those parents. The only thing more upsetting and more heart breaking than the thought of innocent children being killed are the parents and siblings who have to endure without them. I can't imagine. I. CAN'T IMAGINE. My heart is broken and I fear it will never fully recover from this tragedy. May those families find a way to heal. To go on. To endure without their beloved angels.
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