According to the Mayan calendar, the world is set to end
next Friday. I have heard quite a few
jokes regarding the same. Well, for
those who lost loved ones in the tragic shooting spree at Sandy Hook elementary
school today, it must seem like the world ended a week sooner.
This morning I started my day in the usual way. I woke my son up for school, kissed him on
the forehead, and gave him ten minutes to lay in our bed with us—smack dab in
the middle; that’s his favorite spot.
After ten minutes of cuddling, I got him out of bed and assumed my new
role as drill sergeant. As part of the
routine I gave him instructions to help ensure that he would be ready to catch
the bus. These instructions also
included tasks that should have been completed the night before, but as usual,
they were not completed in a satisfactory manner. As the morning proceeded, I checked to see
where he was in the process and pointed out tasks that were yet to be
completed. I provided updates on the
time about every ten minutes or so.
After each time update, it was apparent that once again he was not on
schedule to make the bus. The verbal
prompts became more urgent and my frustration more apparent. My son does not know how to move faster; he
operates at the same pace despite the time crunch we are in. It. Is. Extremely. Annoying. At this point, I begin to do the necessary things
to get him out on time. “Get your lunch
box!” “Take the lotion in the car…the
back of your leg is still dry!” “Let’s
go…we have to leave right now!” “If you
miss this bus you are not playing that game this weekend!” “Where’s your sweater? Yes, you need it! Go back and get it!” “Hurry up!
What’s taking you so long to get in the car!?” “You are nine years old…this is
ridiculous!” “You have got to do better
than this. I am tired of telling you the
same things over and over again!”
“There’s the bus. Hurry up. OK, have a nice day…I love you.” “Hey!! You forgot your sweater…here.” I watched him get on the bus, waited until I
saw his silhouette as he took his seat on the bus, then I pulled off…mentally
exhausted. I cannot imagine what it must be like to receive a telephone call or message advising of a shooting your child’s school. It is completely unfathomable to understand how it must feel to learn that your child has been murdered while at school. The thought of the sheer terror that those children experienced is heart wrenching. When I put myself in the position of the parent’s of those innocent children, I can’t help but to become emotional. How do you reconcile such a loss? How do you make it through the day? How do you breathe? How do you identify your deceased child who you sent to school earlier? How do you go home and see all of the things that made your house their home? How do you make sense of something so senseless? I wish that I had the answers, but I don’t.
Today the world ended for those who lost their lives in this tragedy. Many of their loved ones must feel as though a part of them died too. Many of us feel helpless and only wish there were something that we could do to help ease their pain. Would tougher gun laws, or locked school campuses have prevented this act of unspeakable violence? Perhaps, but we can't be sure.
What we can do is realize that so many things that we think are important, really aren’t. We can stop taking things for granted. Tomorrow may not come for some of us or for those we love, so we have to make every second of every day count. We can stop postponing living by waiting until next week, or next month, or next year to do the things that we can do for, and with those we love, today. We can ask ourselves the question "If I knew that a loved one would no longer be here next week, what would I do differently?" I know I plan to be a little bit more patient on Monday morning. One more hug and one less demand.
The Mayans were a week off in their prediction, because today, the world ended.
Written 12/14/12
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