If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, I have to admit it’s been arduous trying to write about politics in the wake of the Sandy Hook event. In fact, I got physically sick from it.
Nothing could rise from within that could shake the horror and spirit flattening that would allow me even to think, let alone write clearly through this storm. And it’s hard to drive effectively through a storm when there’s mud on your windshield. And there has been plenty of mud.
Sandy Hook was but one of many instances in my experience where I have come face to face with, and been deeply affected by, violence directed towards our young people. My best friend’s nephew was gunned down while walking Christmas presents back to the mall on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas). Within a period of two years, her other nephew’s oldest son was gunned down for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, a witness able to identify and incriminate a killer.
The terrible grief of burying a child, your child or any child, is enough to make you scream for hours openly on public streets. This is what I could feel emanating nationwide from Sandy Hook. The breach of children ripped from their families too soon and so violently creates a void, with a deep ripple effect on the collective soul. It’s the same feeling I felt from my best friend’s family when they experienced their losses, but on a much larger scale.