I find that my mind skitters away from thinking about the heinous act of violence that occured in Newtown. I will be driving by a school, or see a youngster walking hand-in-hand with a parent, and I am reminded of those precious lives that were lost, but then my attention turns to something else.
It is not because I am not affected, nor that I don’t care. It is self-preservation. When the horror and grief seeps into my consciousness, I am in danger of being completely overwhlemed.
I am deeply upset as a parent. To lose a child in such a sudden, brutal manner is too terrible to dwell upon. I cannot imagine how the families of those youngsters can carry on. I send out thoughts of loving kindness to them, and wish that many thousands of others are doing the same thing.
As a teacher of children aged 6 and 7 years old, I am horrified. We teachers do our utmost to provide a safe and nurturing environment for our students. We care about them, far more than how we can fill their minds. We see that they get breakfast, supply mittens to those who forgot them in the rush to catch the bus, hug away tears and bandage scraped knees. To have that environment of care and concern shattered shakes me to the core.
On top of that, to lose colleagues just as suddenly and violently leaves me reeling.
So, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to listen to the media rehash every horrendous, heart-rending detail. I don’t want to hear people point fingers and lay blame.
Please allow me to grieve quietly and to do small acts of kindness for ohers to try to set the world spinning in a way I am able to abide.