Mourning

A psychotic maniac (no, not a "troubled young man") shot his mother, his father, the school principal and a classroom full of kindergartners. I was at the pizza shop when I heard the report.

Tears came unbidden.  How could such a thing happen?

It wasn't the gun. It was the man.

Were there signs? And if so, what could have been done to stop him?

I don't often cry over the news, even over a tragedy, but this time it was kids. Tiny little sprites who should have their whole lives ahead.

I don't grieve as much, however, for the children as I do for their parents. The innocents are on the lap of Jesus. They are learning the secrets of the universe, being comforted by God Himself. But those parents...how does one survive such a senseless loss? They, to the last one, are remembering every single thing they ever denied that child. They are remembering the last time they spoke, the last harsh words. It will take them years  and years to heal, if ever.

There is a moment in time for each of us, a moment we have said something we regret, a moment in anger perhaps, Or maybe one of passion or one of stupidity. If that person was lost to you today, is that how you want to remember your last days?

Not me. I will try harder to control my emotions. I don't wish to regret the loss of a friend or loved one. I would rather grovel and beg your forgiveness and your friendship than to someday regret losing you all together.

Those parents never had the opportunity to take back the anger. I will pray for them.