The alarm clock goes off, and she walks down the stairs, past the two closed bedroom doors where her children sleep, and starts a pot of coffee. It’s a day like any other day; except today, she remembers for the 365th time, that only one of her children are sleeping behind those closed bedroom doors.
And for the 365th day in a row, her heart feels like it is being ripped from her chest and her breath can hardly come out. She wishes and prays that it was all a nightmare that she can shake off. She’ll go upstairs and wake both her children up for breakfast and let them argue over which cartoons to watch.
And for the 365th day in a row, she wishes she could go back in time and relive that last morning with her lost child. A morning that started out just like this, like any other day, except it would end in a life shattering moment of violence and evil and pain. And she wonders what if my child had been sick and home from school that day? What if I had made that dentist appointment instead of putting it off? What if what if what if?
We grieved worldwide with the families of Newtown on this day last year. We wished and hoped and prayed it wasn’t true. And today, 365 days later, we are reminded to love our children harder. To hold them tighter. To be thankful it wasn’t our child, and wonder how it could happen to anyone’s child.
My heart still grieves for these parents. Their grieving will never be complete. Parents are not supposed to bury their children.
And in their bravery, these parents have asked us to honor their children by being kind to one another.
Kindness is the only cure for any of this. For all the hate and fear in the world. Your kindness may save someone elses child. It may save your own.
Heavy heart today, friends. Heavy heart.