I don’t know what to say.  I had this all planned out.  Actually, I had it all planned out at least three times.  At first I thought about doing a public service announcement regarding how dead people can’t collect on life insurance policies when they’re named as the beneficiary.  It seemed like a good topic since most people never think to check things like that after a spouse or child dies.  Then I read a Facebook post Wednesday morning from someone who recently suffered a significant loss.  It was a reflection on how that loss is still so fresh and was filled with wishful thinking and what ifs—and observations that were worthy of note.  But that topic was laid aside as I drove to work and witnessed a young man in his early twenties making excellent use of a puddle in a parking lot.  It made me smile and I’ll probably save it for later since I was almost finished.  But this afternoon the news broke of yet another shooting at yet another school and, although the number of deaths has not been confirmed as I write, it appears that as many as seventeen people have perished . . . and now everything else seems so trivial in comparison.

I know there are answers.  I just don’t know what they are.  I could advocate for proactive measures against bullying and preach about the importance of treating mental health problems and scream for gun control and demand armed guards at every school—all solutions I’ve heard in the last few hours—but there has to be something done.  I just don’t know what, and in the helplessness of the moment I find myself crying for those whose lives have been cut short by another senseless act of violence, and for their families who must now learn to live without them.  And then my thoughts turn to my own children and my grandchildren and I am once again reminded that they can be snatched from me without warning.

I don’t know when violence became an acceptable response to anything.  I don’t know why taking a life—or multiple lives—became an everyday occurrence to which I fear we are growing accustomed.  Something can only happen so many times before it becomes commonplace and an accepted way of life.  But for now there are still those who, like me, know nothing of the ones who died, but mourn their deaths and grieve for their families.

As dark and depressing as all of that is, I know there also has to be light in this world.  There are good people out there who are doing good things every single day in an effort to make this world better, even if it’s just their little corner.  But the news media doesn’t cover that and we tend to lose sight of them when we are slapped with events such as mass shootings.  It’s almost impossible to remember the goodness when you are reading words like “numerous fatalities”, “horrific”, and “catastrophic”.

There are days when this blog is lighthearted and maybe even funny, and days when it serves as a source of information that folks may not want but that they really need.  And then there are those days when it can do little more than acknowledge the heaviness of the air that surrounds us and the heartache that engulfs us, days when all we can do is watch and wonder why.  And when it will stop.  There are those days like today.

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