I wrote this on December 22 of 2012, and I couldn't quite post it at the time. Maybe it was too raw. I just found it and decided to go ahead and post it now.
Words can't express...
Last Saturday evening, December 15th, after everyone was in bed, I finally sat to read about the headline news that I had been avoiding. I clicked my browser to the Washington Post and read about a disturbed young man, who murdered his mother, and then then went to the school where she worked and executed 20 little kids between the ages of five and seven. He finished by murdering school staff prior to turning the gun on himself.
My eyes filled with tears and for more than an hour I wept. That was nearly a week ago, and tonight, as I sit here banging out these words out my eyes again are filling with tears. I am overcome with an immediate sense of what we've lost.
My little bugaboo is seven. He is beautiful, excited about life, adventurous, bursting with curiosity, and easy to love. Every morning in December, he bounces down the stairs, scampers to check the advent calendar and delights in gifts left behind by elves for him and his brothers.
I might get in trouble for telling you that he has a secret super hero identity. He has only shared this information with me, his mom and his brothers. I've been sworn to secrecy, so I won't reveal which superhero he is. He is concerned that “robbers” not use that information against him while he fights crime.
Last year, I helped coach his soccer team, and each Tuesday & Thursday, I worked in vain to create order out of chaos. I coaxed and cajoled a group of six and seven year olds trying to direct their focus to moving a soccer ball in one direction or another. Ultimately, there wasn't much interest in soccer. However, I was amused by the light saber duels that took place during both soccer practice and soccer games. These kids were fun and excited. Each one a miracle, a beautiful treasure, our hope for the future. So as I read about the tragedy in Newtown Connecticut, I couldn't help but to imagine my little soccer kids being gunned down. I imagined the fear in their eyes and the screams as they were violently sent from this world. To be honest, I can't bear the idea.
It is impossible to imagine the pain of losing a tiny little person, who calls me Dad or coach or uncle Mike. These little people represent my hope for the future. They are pure possibility and sheer inspiration.
To the school staff who sacrificed their lives protecting our little babies, I say thank you and more importantly, I'm so sorry you lost so much. Though my words are insufficient and I can say nothing to adequately honor your memory and sacrifice, it is all I have and it is what I can offer at this moment along with my deep sorrow.
To the parents, struggling to survive this tragedy, I can only offer my deepest condolences. I can't imagine what you are going through. Your future has been stolen from you and it is horrible. I am so sorry that you have to endure this tragedy.
To my own kids, the kids I coached, the kids I know from Sunday School, and the kids from my son's school, I say you are beautiful and I love you.