Photographs of the lost

I never thought I'd write about this, because to be honest, I have been avoiding the news and Facebook and Pinterest pictures at all cost. But I think I need to get some things out of me. 

I know what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I've seen each of their faces. I've cried. Ever since I had Jack, I've been able to cry at the drop of a hat. I don't know, like my chemical balance tipped a little. This tragedy is not a drop of a hat situation, this is something unspeakable. But it has been shocking to me as to how I have reacted to the children's and teacher's deaths. 

The process of grief after my dad died was and is an interesting walk. You never know the things that will set you off or make you happy or make you feel like dirt with sadness. I get this sharp and pointed pang when I unexpectedly see a photo of him. Still to this day. I love my dad to the ends of the world and I think about him all the time but those photos… they just hurt me. They remind me too well of what I don't have. 

And I felt that way the first time I saw the faces of those babies. They are just too sweet and too happy to be gone. 

I think about their parents. I imagine what their homes look like now and how they are dealing with their own sadness as well as that of their other children who just lost a brother or sister and might not quite understand what is happening. 

I see the grandparents there, trying to help and keep order and comfort their children and children's children and themselves all at once. 

There is something about the picture of someone who has died. It changes. It yellows a little, it means a little more. 

That picture is eternalized. The person in it will be the same forever in our minds, never growing older. My dad will always be 54. He will never turn grey. Rachel Scott of Columbine will always be the same. These children will remain kindergarteners. 

My prayer for the families and friends of the teachers and children of Sandy Hook, and to everyone who looses or lost, is that they find their own way to grieve. It might not be what you expected. You might be more sad than you thought you would be. You might not be as sad as you assumed. It's ok. Grieve in the way you need to in order to remember and find a way to live beyond the sadness. 

I pray that they are not bitter at the situation - at the shooter, at God, at the school, at the community, at the NRA, at the government, and especially at themselves. Being bitter and placing blame does nothing. 

I pray that they can be sad together and mourn the loss of those they love. And find the happiest memories and hold on to them for dear life. 

It's never going to get easier. But our minds are so wonderfully perceptive, dulling pain over time so getting up in the morning is manageable. It will all be ok, even if we cannot imagine the day that it will.