Day 348: Sandy Hook Elementary

There’s a space that exists somewhere between extreme anger and extreme sadness. That space is filled with darkness and uncertainty. It just lingers there, waiting for the time that you’ll return. And we always return. Events that transpire in this world dictate that we must. We always find our way back to that space because it’s unavoidable. There’s too much sadness and hurt and destruction for us not to know that the space exists and that we must make the occasional trip there.

I’m deep in the  middle of this space today, this place where I’m alive but without purpose. I’m too numb and cold to feel purpose today in this place where I’m enraged and ready to take action but too frozen to take the first steps.

I’ve been in this space all too often it seems. We all have. I’m starting to recognize the finer points of this ugly, sickening place. I’m starting to know the environment too intimately. It’s gotten so I know my way around here, where emotions seem to cease to exist and shock and disbelief rise to the surface and push me down.

But I’ll never be comfortable here, and I’ll never accept this as a place I want to stay in. This space is only temporary because my emotions are pure and my thoughts are alive, and I'll fight to keep it that way.

Just when I truly believe I seen the most horrific or demonic things possible, something occurs to still manage to bring tears to my eyes and remind me there are depths that men and women can sink to. But those actions anger and fuel me. Just when I believe my senses can no longer be surprised and that they have been dulled and ground to nothing, something sticks me sharp in the side to wound. But I’m only renewed and ready to take action.

On days like this, my heart aches. My lungs are heavy. My faith is severely challenged. But I’m  committed. I’m intent.

I’m conflicted today--between my extreme anger and my extreme sadness. I’m deep in the funk, but I’m seeing clearly. Renewed. Still committed. Still intent.

Fucking kids. Tiny. Defenseless. Innocent. Unaware. Just fucking kids.  

Aurora. Columbine. Virginia Tech. Gabby Giffords. Portland. Omaha. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Seriously, fuck your guns. With every bit of conviction I can muster, fuck your guns. Fuck your right to bear arms. And fuck you for defending them. I may be reacting with a heavy dose of irrationality, but these are irrational times, and I’ve had my fill of the stupidity.

Save your petty arguments. They carry no weight. Save your references to your constitutional rights. They’re antiquated. Prehistoric. Shameful. Senseless.

No civilian needs a gun. Not one. It’s that simple.

If you're a responsible gun owner and this rubs you the wrong way, I don't care. I don't blame you, but I'll fight you every step of the way to make your guns unlawful to possess. 

I hate this space. The tears. The continual loss of life. The loss of humanity. I hate these continual plunges into deeper and murkier waters. I’m tired of sinking.

Right now, I’m trying to remain positive. I really am. I’m trying to stay true and reflective. I’m trying to stay even and think clearly. But it’s hard. Really fucking hard.

I’m a lucky man today. My beautiful children are alive and walking this earth. They’re here. They’re present. They’re with me of this earth.

I’m a lucky man. My grief takes place from a distance. My loss is not immediate. 

I’ll wake up tomorrow without the void that these people of Connecticut will suffer with the rest of their lives. 

Tonight, I'll tuck my beautiful little baby into her bed and hug and kiss her goodnight. Tomorrow, her beautiful voice will be the first child’s voice I hear, and it will ring angelic in my ears.

Tomorrow, I’ll watch my beautiful older daughter take to the court play basketball, and my pride will soar.

Tomorrow, I'll walk out into my living room in the morning and find my other daughter sleeping peacefully on the couch, right where she falls asleep every night, and I'll thank everything that is holy that she's there. 

Tomorrow, I'll walk through my day with the knowledge that my son is living his crazy, wacky, unique life just the way he wants, and I'll smile a big fat smile. 

Tomorrow, I’ll do as I do every day: think of all my children and know they’re a phone call or a text away.

Tomorrow, I'll remain committed and intent and renewed in believing there are great, great people in this world and they can and do great things. 

I’m a lucky man. And I’m so, so sorry for those who after today no longer possess that same luck.