Of Little Children and Guns.

It's been a difficult weekend and today, the media is full of the outpouring of grief over a loss which seems incomprehensible in terms of the magnitude of evil required to facilitate such actions.

There must be a sickness in our society, that it would breed a tragedy like this.

Immediately, I identify strongly with the parents, having lost my seven year old daughter under tragic circumstances. Something like this is like hitting a raw nerve in me, it provokes a pain which is at once familiar, yet unbearable, and runs to the core of my being. The awful dawning realisation that your little one has died. That they are gone. That there is nothing you can do. It's a grief beyond grief, a pain beyond pain.

Twenty children's parents are faced with no other option than to try and cope with this bleak, blank wall of pain today. They will wake to the flat, immovable reality of what has occurred and will continue to wake to it every day for the rest of their lives. Some will shriek, and fight, and bloody their fists against it. Some might go mad, searching for a way through it. But it will never go away. And they must ultimately learn to live with it's presence.

We must come together in our shared empathy and grief and reach out to these people. We must shoulder the grief and stand in solidarity with the inhabitants of Newtown so that they do not feel alone, and so that they know that whatever portion of their sadness we can bear to ease their load we will shoulder gladly.


Comments

  1. You have written so eloquently of your grief at the death of your daughter and now you write of the grief of those parents across the sea. It had not occurred to me until now that it would resonate with you, but I can feel how it does.

    So I wish you consolation as that wound is again touched by deep pain; you have something to offer those parents that others do not (as do the people of Dunblane). All of us can benefit from your expression of that grief and bring a greater compassion to a situation that, thank God, is not in our experience.

    God bless you and your family.

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  2. I was moved by the sense of empathy I read here, so I searched your blog for more of your story. I cried when I read about Ruth and the car accident, and again when I read of the birth of Mary Therese. I am humbled by the strength of endurance you and your wife have shown through it all. Praying that God will be with you in the pain, and that you will comfort others with the comfort you have received from Him, the God of all comfort.

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