If all the tears in this house, this town or state, this country or this world could bring those innocent babies and their teachers back to this world I think there may be enough to do so. There is nothing more devastating than what happened at that elementary school on Friday morning. And my chest aches. This is what a broken heart feels like.
All these tears are shed for those stolen too early, removed from this world, and brought to Heaven. These tears are for the little siblings too young to understand the finality of death. These tears are for their lack of faith in Santa for not bringing their brother or sister or friend or teacher back. These tears are for myself, my friends and other young moms and dads who are now utterly aware of the evils of this world in which we so meticulously raise and protect our children. We can not control chance.
I just never knew "chance" included a massacre of an elementary school. How many parents are damning the universe that they didn't kiss their baby that one extra time that morning? That they didn't keep them home from school? That they didn't have the chance to switch places.
I'm trying to process all that I'm feeling. I find myself staring at Vienna, memorizing her nose, her freckle on her left cheek, her round baby belly. Hoping with everything that I am that nothing takes her away from me. Knowing I'll never survive life without her. Knowing there are many parents right now barely surviving as they bury their small children. It's so sick and so sad and I'm just so sorry.