After the widely read blog post “I am Adam Lanza’s mother” all I can say, through gut wrenching tears, Dylan Hockley could be my son. I don’t think I can ever be the same again. EVER.
My husband walks into the house to me sobbing. He asks me what is wrong, alarm in his voice. He looks at the computer, “Oh.”
I turn it to him still sobbing. “Read.”
He silently obeys. I put my head back on the couch and close my eyes. I wait a minute, then I hear his anticipated anguish. A few minutes pass. It feels like forever. He sits back, tears still steaming down his face, his voice thick,
“I wish we really did live on another planet.”
Me too honey. Me too. I want to scoop up my kids and run. I want to hide in a hole. I want to hurt someone. I want to scream. I want to hug every child I pass until my arms give out. I do not want to dwell. I do not want to feel. I want to act. I want to make a difference. I want to feel like I’m moving instead of sitting, doing nothing.
This struck me to my very core(I thought that had already happened but I was wrong) Ignore the devastated woman over here, if you must. I am raw. I am not hiding.
Friday December 14th 2012 was the parent equivalent of 9/11. September llth was the first time in my life time that our country came together in soldiery grief.(or at least the biggest. read here) That was my first experience with tragedy, and soul questioning sorrow.
It made me ask myself “What is humanity?”
Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to diminish 9/11, but this feels worse. This is innocence attacked. This offends every decent person across the face of the globe. This taps into our primal protective instincts. The cry of the world, not just this country, is our humanity crying out. This is what makes us sentient. This is what makes us alive.
I feel so much love welling out of my body it is painful and it may break me. I feel love for Ann Marie Murphy. I feel love for Dylan Hockley. I feel love for Charlotte Bacon. I feel love for every single child and adult that was present December 14th, those still here in this dim world and those in the light. I feel love for my community. I feel love for my daughter’s teacher and my son’s teachers ands aides. I feel love for every other human on this planet mourning along with me. I feel love for every child I see. My sorrow is because I love.
I tried to igonre it because it hurt. I felt it on Friday but Monday broke the dam. Dylan Hockley broke the dam.
Dylan Hockley could be my son.