Nothing to Say
On Friday someone asked me if I was going to watch the Royal Wedding.
“Nope.”
I didn’t feel like expanding on it.
I was too busy trying to avoid the news.
Another school shooting.
I clicked on the news for a minute.
The announcer was talking about how the community was going to band together to get people through this tragic, blah, blah, blah.
We’ll here a lot about love and prayers and everyone will reach out to offer comfort...
... and it’ll cycle out.
Until it’s time to pitch the news tent in another community where it happened again.
I speak for a lot of people when I say that I’m sick of it, but I did hear about one specific kid who lost her life on Friday...
...and I centered in on thoughts of raising my own kids.
How I felt on the moment when I saw Jake for the first time.
What it was like to see Sam scooting across the floor.
The heartbreak of Jake’s illness...
...the euphoria of his recovery.
I thought about how much my heart still aches for all of them every time they walk out the door, and how I can’t really rest until I know they’re all here for the night.
And I put that in context with the Dads who have to head to a school, and don’t see their child standing there.
They’re greeted by a first responder who says:
“I’m sorry.”
We should all be sorry.
We WON’T even try to fix this.
Sure, we’ll pretend.
For a few days...
...tough talk, empty promises, hoping the Parkland kids don’t raise too much of a fuss...
...and pray it goes away.
Me?
I’ve always been empathetic.
I’ll think about the pain of a Dad.
Thousands of Dads, actually.
Who had to bury a child...
...with a f****ng gun shot wound.
“Nope.”
I didn’t feel like expanding on it.
I was too busy trying to avoid the news.
Another school shooting.
I clicked on the news for a minute.
The announcer was talking about how the community was going to band together to get people through this tragic, blah, blah, blah.
We’ll here a lot about love and prayers and everyone will reach out to offer comfort...
... and it’ll cycle out.
Until it’s time to pitch the news tent in another community where it happened again.
I speak for a lot of people when I say that I’m sick of it, but I did hear about one specific kid who lost her life on Friday...
...and I centered in on thoughts of raising my own kids.
How I felt on the moment when I saw Jake for the first time.
What it was like to see Sam scooting across the floor.
The heartbreak of Jake’s illness...
...the euphoria of his recovery.
I thought about how much my heart still aches for all of them every time they walk out the door, and how I can’t really rest until I know they’re all here for the night.
And I put that in context with the Dads who have to head to a school, and don’t see their child standing there.
They’re greeted by a first responder who says:
“I’m sorry.”
We should all be sorry.
We WON’T even try to fix this.
Sure, we’ll pretend.
For a few days...
...tough talk, empty promises, hoping the Parkland kids don’t raise too much of a fuss...
...and pray it goes away.
Me?
I’ve always been empathetic.
I’ll think about the pain of a Dad.
Thousands of Dads, actually.
Who had to bury a child...
...with a f****ng gun shot wound.
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