A Connecticut Blogger’s Response to Tragedy

Words. Humor. Those are my things, and yet they’re both completely useless right now. I will never be able to wrap my head around what has happened in my state on Friday.

As someone who dreams of one day being a father, my heart is broken.

As someone who still feels like a child on the inside, my heart is broken.

I remember my childhood vividly. Losing my innocence came in small moments — specific episodes along the way in which my sense of security started to slowly wither — one observation, one letdown, one loss at a time. I often put up a fight, but no matter how much I tried to cling to that innocence, those moments still came. And those moments are still coming.

And Friday has been the worst one of all.

I’m heartsick for the children whose beautiful, innocent lives have been stolen from them. And I’m heartsick for the surviving children whose moments have been stolen — as rather than having a future full of them in which to slowly adjust to the harsh realities of the world, they’ve been forced — in an instant — to endure forms of pain, heartache, and tragedy that most people will never know.

But Newtown is filled with love — and love is greater than pain, heartache and tragedy.

I refuse to associate Newtown with tragedy.

I associate Newtown with my college days. Days when I would be stuck in traffic on I-84 on my way to class — when, rather than sit and wait, I’d get off a few exits early, stop at the Church Hill Road Starbucks, and follow the beautiful Newtown back roads into Danbury.

I associate Newtown with the wine shop that my best college friend’s family owns on Mount Pleasant Road. Where they know all of their customers by name. Where “community” is much more than just a word — it’s a natural element of life.

I associate Newtown with love — and I pray that it is at its highest level now as families mourn, friends grieve, and an entire community struggles.

There are no words. There is no humor.

But there is love.

 

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