Today there was a shooting. Twenty-seven people killed at an elementary school in Newtown, CT about an hour's drive from New York City. Twenty of those killed were children. My mind tries to understand how that could happen, but there is no way to really comprehend how someone could murder innocent children. I heard on the news tonight that there were doctors and trauma centers around the area mobilized and ready for the rush of victims. Only three showed up. Of those, two later died. The rest--all children--were already dead. They were killed in hallways and classrooms where they stood and sat, played and learned. They didn't stand a chance. Even as I write this and think of how quickly it must have all happened, I cannot stop the tears. I am a mother now. I have been rewired to grieve differently--to feel more deeply the pain of other parents and of the families these deaths destroyed. I picture Elisa in Kindergarten next fall and the joy I hope to feel when she begins her scholastic journey. And then I imagine it all ending. How? How could life be so unfair?
So this afternoon as I tried to keep the news off and my mind distracted by the endless cycle of clean/cook/clean again, I obliged all requests from my little girls. You want to get out all the Playdoh containers, mix the colors and let Carolina lick them too? Sure. You want some cookies and jellybeans for a snack? Why not? Life is short. Oh so short. And there is no guarantee that we get more of it, so let's try to enjoy today. As a stay at home mom, I often get caught up in the drudgery that my daily tasks present. There are bottles of milk to make, kids to get dressed and off to school. Naps must be scheduled and bedtimes enforced. With toys strewn all around, the apartment always looks messy. There are always more clothes to wash, and kids to bathe. Buying, cooking, and cleaning up three meals a day for four people is no small feat either when you fret over the nutrition you're providing and how the food will be received. Yes, it can feel overwhelming and sometimes depressing to spend every day doing the same things with little rest and knowing there are several more years ahead of the same. But today I was struck by how a tragedy like this robs the victims and their families of these mundane tasks. There is such comfort in the routine. And yet by nightfall today, we know there will never be another rush to get ready for school like this morning's. The drop off or bus ride will not end with a simple wave of the hand. Those last kisses and hugs keep playing out in my mind and I wonder if this had happened to us, would I remember those last moments I spent with my kids? What must it feel like to know that tonight no dinner is needed. There will be no bath and bedtime routine.
Elisa began asking questions recently about a small makeshift memorial we pass for a man who was killed in front of an apartment building 2 blocks away from our home. I attended the vigil without her mainly because I didn't know how to explain it. But when she passed by one day and began asking questions, I did my best to answer them. There was his photo. Yes, he was hurt really bad by some mean people. They hit him on the head. He fell. He went to the hospital. "Awww, poor man," she said. "And he's still there? " "No, he died. Do you know what it means to die?" A blank stare. "Well, it's kind of like sleeping, but you can never wake up and never talk to your family or friends again." It might not have been the best description, but I hadn't been expecting to have the conversation so I went with something resembling the truth. Elisa seemed to repeat it all back, but later on she started jumbling up ideas and thought he had perhaps burned himself on the candles at the site. No, I explained, those candles were put there after he died. It's a way for people to remember him. And this is when I realized just how hard it is for a 4 year old to grasp the severity and finality of death. Day after day, Elisa has managed to invent a new outcome for this man. Yes, yes, he's dead, but....he somehow manages to have a very busy life. And there is no need for me to keep drilling it in her head. He's dead. He can't do that, Elisa. I just try to steer things back to reality and then move on.
But today, I knew there was no chance of explaining this tragedy. I made the conscious decision that TV news is not for the preschool mind, and I limited my reading to only a few basic news stories. I had to stop myself. It was hard to be peering over a laptop with tears welling in my eyes while answering pleas for more Spongebob and juice refills. And so I watched my girls play. Every movement was joyous, every shriek an expression of their love for each other. It was innocence and the complete antithesis of what I had felt earlier today reading about the school shooting. So much despair and cruelty in the world turned against its most vulnerable members. There is no greater horror. I took a moment to appreciate this completely normal day and the fact that I got to spend it with my children. I got to greet them after their naps and hug them until they forced me away. It was exactly what I needed.
No comments:
Post a Comment