Yesterday was the first day of school, and I so remember last year, when I teased my teenagers and mockingly made a video of them heading off to that first milestone day. The most wonderful day of the year for so many working parents! This year is different. Social media is clogged with first day smiles, backpacks, new sneakers, and so many little faces waving as the school bus pulls
It’s taking me a while to figure all this out, and I still don’t know what to do or how to do it. There is no handbook for the aftermath of … after. what will people say? what if someone gets hurt? i have a responsibility. protect my friends. promote change. advocate. advocate. keep private. speak up. be quiet. protest. go home. talk about it. say nothing. hug. hide. what will
So today my family waited in line for hours and hours to pay our respects to a young boy who died too soon. Again. We went went to the calling hours with hundreds and hundreds of Newtown friends, students, teachers, families, coaches and neighbors for a 13 year old boy from my kid’s 7th grade class who died “unexpectedly” at home. 13. Just 13. Thirteen. 7th grade. Pollywogs and skateboards.
Sorry for the absence, but I’ve been busy. Driving carpool, cooking casseroles, writing letters, making phone calls, crying, attending meetings, losing friends, working, making friends, mending broken hearts, lobbying congress, watching sports, writing more letters, crying, joining groups, quitting groups, hugging kids, visiting colleges, working, momming, driving. Trying my best to be a worthy ambassador for Newtown every single day. Trying to figure out what to do next. What we can possibly
I would like to post regularly and share what is happening here in Newtown, but there just isn’t enough time or energy to do that. I want to, but I’ve been muzzled: first by grief, then by fear, then by responsibility, then by trolls, then by frustration, then by friends, then by time. When trying to find someplace to channel the grief, to get away from … well … me,
I’m having a hard time getting back to life: attending multiple wakes and funerals for dead 7 year olds and dead moms tend to do that. Harsh words, but it’s a harsh world we’re left with. I’m left speechless. And ambitionless. And aimless. And well, just tired. I sleep a lot these days – soundly, like when I was pregnant and just need to shut my eyes for 10 minutes
I received many notes of support about the horror here in Newtown, and appreciate every single one. There is one more thoughtful and poignant than all the others, because of who it is from. Back in 2008 I took a 12 week NAMI family-to-family class for people with family members suffering from mental illness, of which, I am one. One evening, a guy showed up to share his powerful, personal story with us,
The media is suffocating, clogging the roads and parking lots with bright lights and satellite dishes and polished professionals putting on too much makeup in their caravans before venturing out to stick a camera in our weary faces.But I don’t want them to go away. Because as hard as it is to see my quiet sleepy town on the 24 hour news cycle, it is far far worse to turn