I Will Never Know.

This morning, as my mind hovered in the space between sleep and consciousness, I began to process the weight and the reality of the recent horrific events. It might seem strange that it’s just hitting me now. It's not that it didn’t earlier, it’s just that it's sinking in more as time passes and, I suppose, as more faces and personalities are put to the victims.

I don't think this makes me an insensitive person. In fact, I am unsuccessfully fighting back tears as I write. But, as a non-parent, these types of events strike me on a different level. I can’t relate in the same way as someone who has children, especially children that are close in age to those lost. I feel shock and sadness and despair, but I can’t begin to comprehend the terror that has overtaken parents who now are forced to imagine suffering a similar loss. And those who actually have suffered it. It is unthinkable. Unimaginable. Unknowable.  

I will lose people I love in my lifetime. Unexpectedly. I already have. But I will never lose a child. And as strange as it sounds, I am grateful. Does it mean that instead I am being robbed of what parents tell me is an incomparable experience? One that changes you, softens you, and completely rewires your psyche? One that can be the most rewarding life event there is? Yes, it does mean that. But I'm OK with that—for so many reasons.

P.S. I know sometimes I get too personal here. I say things that I should keep to myself. But this is real. I am real. I am not mysterious and I'm OK with that, too. (Though I am never OK with offending anyone, and while I believe that those who know me, know what I'm trying to say, just know that I have only benign intentions in sharing my thoughts.)

Goodnight.