The heart pumps with each contraction.
I've been there. I may not have been standing outside a school waiting . . . hoping . . . praying that my child would walk out but I have been there. I have been there waiting . . . hoping . . . praying that the unimaginable outcome would not become real.
For twenty-seven families today, their hearts are left bleeding heavy.
Why . . .
How . . .
What if . . .
If only . . .
Just another ordinary day with half eaten breakfasts, shuffling to find that other sock, making sure teeth are brushed, grabbing backpacks and counting down the days left until Christmas break. Just another ordinary day that turned itself inside out and became extraordinary. Extraordinarily awful. Extraordinarily horrible. Extraordinarily unexplainable. Extraordinarily painful.
So many want answers. So many want something to be done.
Answers will come and things will get accomplished.
But for those left in the wake of all this . . . those that have had their normal lives destroyed in a flash, the answers will sit empty. Never satisfying. Never truly answering the questions that don't make sense. The things that will be achieved will not be good enough because all the works and deeds will not be able to accomplish the one thing . . . the only thing they desperately want . . . that of their child walking out of that school and wrapping still growing arms around their parents neck.
How do you explain something that defies any realities?
How do you accept that you can't turn back the clock?
How do you learn to live a life that was a part of your worst nightmares?
How do you learn to live again?
May the heart pump with each painful contraction.