Parents wept. Their teardrops flowed in grief for their children slaughtered in the prime of innocence, unsure of the real difference between love and hate. Every teardrop, containing tiny particles of parents and children’s oneness merged into the universe, disappearing somewhere into the unknown, beyond the seen.
The children, young, trusting and carefree, just beginning their years of preparations for the coming of adulthood, were violently taken from their families. In the sanctity of their school, the children gathered, not solely by choice, but also by design, eager to learn, and sharing in frolic and chatter with friends. Would they have grown up to become the teachers, scientists, social workers, doctors, pastors, etc. of the future? The answer is unknown. Suddenly, out of the unexpected, their lives ended abruptly at the hands of a stranger they never met, seen, or perhaps never heard of before.
Teachers and staff cried out, braving the odds, hoping that everyone would be spared. Some prayed in silence. Some used whatever objects they could find as wedges to securely close schoolroom doors. Huddled under desks, in closets and bathrooms with fear in their hearts, teachers, staff and students hoped, and prayed to Almighty. Selflessly, a teacher and aide, without hesitation, used their own bodies as shields to protect the young grade-schoolers from being slaughtered. They were no match for the hate that resided in the heart of the youthful gunman.
The gunman, his motive unknown, and may never be known. A confused mind filled with indignation, with callousness, perhaps looking for credence in his warped reality. Frenzied, and filled with rage, he searched the hallways for the next victim. How can someone be so crazed to destroy the young, precious little beings with hearts full of love? Had he stopped to talk to one of them, would the grade-schooler have said, “Please mister, don’t hurt me and my friends, GOD loves you?” One can only speculate.
Desperate efforts by teachers and staff saved most, but some did not survive the onslaught. When it was over, twenty six lay dead. Among the dead were those who knew, and those who never knew one another. Some were friends, some colleagues, some classmates. Innocent victims, too young to know what they want to become, but this did not matter. Little, caring human beings, sharing joy, companionship, sincere friendship, and the pleasures of learning, destroyed in the light of day. Gathered together for another day of school, no one could dream that it would be their last. Then, in the early hours of morning classes, the sudden burst of gunfire abruptly ended their pleasure, their lives. Their glee turned to plea, only to be answered by bullets no one could see.
There are those, greater than thou, willing to condemn, to ridicule in an instant with impunity. They deny the slaughter at Sandy Hook. They hurl insults at parents of the young victims, many of whom go about their daily lives seeking solace rather than indifference, and searching for the resolve to cope with their griefs. The pretense of naysayers, promoting themselves as dignified humans feel little or no remorse. Quick to condemn, yet quick to claim allegiance with the Supreme.
Victimized parents aware of naysayers’ doubtful words, their caustic whispers and piercing stares, seldom complain or protest. In quiet contemplation, grieving parents continue to probe for answers that elude the rational mind.
Today, parents continue to cry; tears unseen to the naked eye. Still hearing echoing screams of their children’s amid pleas for moms and dads, they strive each day, to ease the pains etched in their hearts. Standing, sitting or kneeling in prayer, many in earnest, appeal to Supreme that such destruction of young innocent lives never happen again.
Will it? We hope not. We pray.