Horrible tragedy in Connecticut....

Hi Steve,

By now I'm sure you've heard about the shooting at a Connecticut elementary school yesterday.  The pain in my heart is just beyond any pain I've felt before.  This is a grief for all of mankind, ya know?  It's not just for the 20 kids who were killed, but for ALL children who die a senseless death, especially at the hands of adults---whether it's bad parenting, or even war----it's just senseless and cruel.

In October, I got a call from my neighbor, Judy, who told me that her granddaughter Adeleide had died.  This baby was only 2 years old, chatting up a storm, so alive and vibrant...so healthy...and happy. She had the best mom, who took the best care of her as possible as a single mother, and thrilled grandparents who took care of her a few days during the week while the mom had to work.  The other days of the week were spent at the daycare.

One day, after Darlene (the mom) dropped her baby off at daycare---with people she knew for years and trusted---Adeleide had a snack, played awhile, and then went down for a nap....but she never woke up.  Nobody knows why.  The coroner found no reason.  The baby's heart just stopped beating. She had no previous heart issues, no health concerns, nothing.  She just lay down, fell asleep, and was gone.

Can you imagine that phone call?  Telling Darlene, a friend you've known for years, that your baby is dead and you don't know what happened, or why, or how?  Can you imagine being Darlene, at work, at her cubicle, suddenly chilled to the bone, frantic, hysterical, running out of the office to her car, crying uncontrollably, rushing through traffic to get to the daycare, only to find her baby lifeless in her arms?

I can imagine it, very vividly.

I am empathic to the core of my soul.  And it hurts.  A lot.  All the time.

The empathy that I feel so deeply and so vividly is partially why I'm now taking Zoloft in addition to my Welbutrin anti-depressant.  It's mostly because of 9/11 and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (at least that's the original reason I started taking it).  But the Zoloft is new.  Apparently all my heart fluttering has revealed that I have "social anxiety" too.  Gee, I wonder WHY.

This world is just evil beyond my brain's ability of comprehension.

We had that baby and our neighbors over to visit and have dinner, and we all held her, talked to her, and had fun spending time with her.  My mom crocheted hats for her, and little things like booties.  We bought baby girl clothes for Darlene too, before Adeleide was born.  Darlene had met a man in the navy, they got together, he left her behind, and she had a baby on her own, scared to death, and only got to spend two short years with her.  It breaks my heart.  Judy said to me, "I've not only lost my granddaughter, but part of my own child too...she'll never be the same."

I am sure that not one of those parents whose child was killed had one wink of sleep last night.

You drop your child off at school.  School is supposed to be a safe place, that you can trust to take care of your child all day long so you can work and pay the bills and provide for that child.  To get a phone call from the school personnel telling you that your child was peacefully sitting in his or her seat, doing the assigned work, only to suddenly be shot from out of nowhere by a gunman who just burst into the room with a handgun in each hand....and to be told that your child died instantly in that school....

I mean, it just wrenches my guts to the point of being physically sick to think about it.  I think the Zoloft must be working though, I haven't cried yet.  I just feel sick.  I couldn't sleep last night either.  Thinking about all of those empty kids' bedrooms, decorated with Disney characters, or Super Heroes, with toys strewn about, a bed that isn't made, clothes laying around...to smell that child's scent in his pillow... knowing he'll never be there again.

And your neighbor's kid came home from school without a scratch. Your child's best friend survived.  This brings no comfort, though, just resentment, anger, outrage...the helpless feeling of loss and grief.
These are things I think of, that make my heart break.

I've never had a child of my own.  But I helped raise my best friend's kids for many years.  I can imagine THEM going through this traumatic experience at that age, and it just kills me.  It's probably a good thing that I never had a kid, myself.  I don't think I would survive this kind of horrible tragedy.  I'm sure Darlene has felt suicidal, as many of these newly grieving parents must feel too right now.  The world is not fair.  You're not supposed to outlive your kids.  You magically breathed life into that living being, with a personality, and with quirks, and you gave that child so much love you thought you would burst.  But suddenly, one day, that child is gone.  In the blink of an eye.

You never got to say goodbye.  You never told that child that you loved him before he got to school. You didn't fix his favorite breakfast of pancakes because there just wasn't time to.  You wish now that you would have. You wish with all your heart and soul that you could rewind the day, and do things differently...you wish you had your child back in your arms.  But now, you have to plan a funeral.

A funeral, at Christmas.

The next 50 years will never be the same at Christmas for these families.  That child will be there, every year, haunting them, making them ache so much they can't even put up a tree anymore.  The holiday will never be festive again.  It'll only bring sadness.  Even if they have other kids, it won't be the same.

And those sisters and brothers....when I think of them, it just rips through me like a knife.  Knowing that the sister pulled her hair the day before, and called her a poopy head.  Broke her favorite toy.  Smacked her on the arm and then told mom that SHE did it to you.  All the guilt that goes with every sibling rivalry in those households will remain for the rest of their lives.  They never told their brother or sister that they loved them, they just told them that they had cooties.  They wish now that they had the chance to tell them how they really feel, but all they will ever have are photos, faded memories, and maybe a cherished item that once belonged to him or her.  And a presence of grief so fierce in the house between mom and dad, that it will ultimately make or break their marriage.

Yeah, I thought about it all day.  I couldn't watch the news on t.v.  I read articles on the internet.

And then I thought about the 1.5 million children who died during the Holocaust.  You can easily imagine 20 kids being killed---as heart wrenching as it is to do---but how can you imagine 1.5 MILLION kids?  The Museum taught me that it would be like one entire school full of students, disappearing every day, for eight years straight.  EIGHT CONSECUTIVE YEARS, of days like yesterday.  Constant death, grief, and those same scenarios I described above, for 12 years during World War II.  You may not be able to feel that horrendous loss, but I do.  It was an entire GENERATION, completely annihilated, in a senseless war of cruelty.

Now do you understand the depth of my grief?   Do you understand better how much I felt for the Museum I once worked at, and how important it is to me even now?   Do you understand why, now, I feel a huge fear of going to Ontario to speak in front of 400 kids about this type of thing?  I don't know if I can do it.  I really don't.  It's a nice opportunity, to do something I am passionate about.  But I am also too empathic about it, and might break down into tears in front of them.  Seeing those faces of children in front of me, reminding me of all those children lost, who never got the chance at life....

This is why I am filled with "social anxiety."  This is why I don't trust anybody.  This is why I stay bottled up inside, because if I didn't, I'd be a hysterical mess all the time.  This is why I take drugs to keep myself composed.  The thought of dead children stacked up like corded wood...in concentration camps...children who loved teddy bears, chocolate, jump rope...each one of them a miracle of life, loved by their parents, and an entire generation lost by the whole world.

We all mourn these 20 kids from yesterday.  People argue politics about gun control.  Others play the blame game.  "This can't happen in CONNECTICUT, for God's sake, we're all rich, elite, civilized..."

Melissa Etheridge wrote a song that is the best I can do to convey my feelings...she does it perfectly...
I know she originally wrote it for Matthew Shepard, after his cruel death, but it still sums up how I feel today because of these kids....especially the two verses I've enlarged and colored red...

"Scarecrow"

Showers of your crimson blood 
Seep into a nation calling up a flood
Of narrow minds who legislate 
Thinly veiled intolerance
Bigotry and hate 

But they tortured and burned you 
They beat you and they tied you 
They left you cold and breathing
For love they crucified you

I can't forget hard as I try 
This silhouette against the sky 

Scarecrow crying 
Waiting to die wondering why 
Scarecrow trying 
Angels will hold carry your soul away 

This was our brother 
This was our son 
This shepherd young and mild 
This unassuming one 
We all gasp this can't happen here 
We're all much too civilized 
Where can these monsters hide

But they are knocking on our front door 
They're rocking in our cradles
They're preaching in our churches
And eating at our tables 
I search my soul 
My heart and in my mind 
To try and find forgiveness
This is someone child
With pain unreconciled
Filled up with father's hate
Mother's neglect
I can forgive But I will not forget 

Scarecrow crying 
Waiting to die wondering why 
Scarecrow trying 
Rising above all in the name of love

I have to go now.  I hope you have a good weekend.  I hope you never have to feel this depth of pain.  If you've ever seen the movie "The Green Mile," I am kinda like John Coffey.  And I hate it.  I hate that I can feel it, so vividly, burn into my soul and scar me...every time.  All the time.

Bye for now.

Love, Rebecca