It’s five days after the senseless tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut — a small town that reminds me a lot of our suburban town here in New Jersey. I can’t even begin to explain how I feel, because it’s a parent’s worst nightmare. And now that I am a parent — of a child who is still 4 years away from kindergarten — awful news like this hits me harder than it would have pre-kids.
My husband spent most of the weekend watching CNN. I spent the weekend in the playroom with my daughter, holding her tighter than ever, whispering my love to her every chance I got, and tearing up when I thought of all the parents who were missing a child that night.
I made an exception to watch the vigil on Sunday night. It’s been the same emotions over and over: incredible sadness, anger, sadness. I sort of feel the same way as I did after 9/11. I’m shell-shocked.
Twenty little ones, who were incredibly vibrant and precious, their lives snuffed out in a matter of minutes. Six incredibly heroic women who literally faced down evil trying to protect their charges.
I’m not going to blame anyone. Blame isn’t going to bring them back. But I damn well know there has to be a way to prevent this from ever happening again.