Hello all!
Happy Monday! (Okay, maybe not super happy, but it's a new day. So yay about that!) I hope that each and every one of you are doing well! (I want to believe that real people actually read this, but there's still part of me that thinks that only my imaginary friends read it.)
So as I sit in the library, curled in a blanket, shoes off, fuzzy socks on, and a cup of hot chocolate beside me (yes, I know. It's not my usual hot apple cider, but I was in a hot cocoa mood tonight), my philosophy notes surrounding me, an easiness came over me. When I was taking a mini study break, I noticed a link that popped up on my Facebook page. It was an article marking the three year anniversary since Sandy Hook. My stomach began to twist and my motivation for studying disappeared as I was transported to another place.
I don't remember all of the details, but I remember celebrating with my peers. It was a Friday, only one week left until Christmas vacation. I had gone through the motions of my awful first hour class (AP Comparative Politics. Yuck.) and was looking forward to the fall celebration afterwards. I loved these school wide events when everyone would cram into the gym, we would sit by our grades, listen to the pep band, see the dance team or someone perform, listen to our beloved principal talk, and celebrate all of our accomplishments. My high school was big on school pride and celebrating the hard work of everyone--it didn't matter if it was football or chess, we celebrated and cheered for everyone.
After that, the day continued on and soon the final bell rang. I walked with my friend to her car and she gave me a ride home. After she dropped me off, I remember walking into the house and noticing that my mom was crabby. She was short with me when I asked her a question and I remember thinking, "Jeez. What's her problem?" Finally, after a few more quick and snappy responses from her, I asked why she was being so sour. She gave me a look that sent chills down my body.
"What happened? Did something bad happen? Are Grandma and Grandpa okay?" I asked her, my heart pounding into my chest, already fearing the worst.
"Not to us."
"What are you talking?" I remember the panic in my voice. "What does that mean?"
"There was a school shooting at an elementary school. The news is on in the family room."
I ran down the stairs and watched the updates as the newscasters repeated back the latest word on the tragedy. I don't remember what happened next, but I remember crying. I remember the silent tears running down my face as I wrapped my arms around myself and watched the news. I remember watching the horrific pictures of the students and listening to the death toll rising higher and higher. I remember cursing the gunman out as I prayed for the survivors. I remember crying out to God and asking Him why this could happen--how this could happen. I selfishly wished that it would have happened at a high school because at least the high schools had lived longer and could have figured out what to do. I remember watching the entire news story, hating the reporters for having the cameras in the survivors' faces, wanting to scream at the NRA and blame this on them, I wanted to grab politicians and shake them repeatedly until they understood something--anything--about this tragedy.
Fast forward three years later when these senseless shootings are a part of our everyday lives; when there is always breaking news about a shooting that takes victims. The number increases and the names all fade together. There are people calling out for justice, demanding for change. They want someone to understand and do something.
When is it enough? When will the deaths stop? When will people realize that this is out of hand? When will there be change?
Wherever you stand on gun violence, I want you to think about the victims and the families. I want you to think about the parents who have to go to bed knowing that they have out-lived their child. I want you to think about the siblings who no longer have a brother or sister. I want you to think about the kids who lost their best friend, classmate, neighbor.
How is that okay? How is this entire situation okay? I don't know.
I'm gonna step off of my soap box now and focus (or attempt to) on my philosophy and try to make it through finals. Good luck, all. Have a great night.
Love,
Katie
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