It took a while for me to think of what to write for this post because I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said before. Because people have been sharing these sentiments since Columbine 23 years ago.
In the coming days, we’re going to hear about all the children as their faces flash across the news, hear from their hysterical parents who are questioning if life is even worth living anymore, hear about the courageous and selfless teachers who’d prepared for this moment simultaneously hoping they’d never need their lockdown training, hear from some politicians who, other than changing some numbers, are able to recycle their speeches from school shootings past, hear from ER nurses who got the call over EMS radio to activate for a Mass Casualty Incident, hear from the Left, hear from the Right, hear from first responders and law enforcement who’ve “never seen something so tragically brutal,” hear from mothers around the world who are “hugging their babies a little tighter tonight,” hear from the parents who got lucky because their kid was at home sick today.
We’ve already heard it all. And we will hear it all again. What we won’t hear again? Those kids squealing gleefully as they bounce onto the school bus, summer so close they can taste it. We won’t hear their names called for trophies at their championship games. We won’t hear them singing at their choir concerts or rehearsing for their piano recitals. We won’t hear their names called at high school graduation. We won’t hear them exchange wedding vows. We won’t hear them anymore.
We’ve heard it all before. And I don’t have anything else to say because we are in this position so frequently that we have said all the words many, many times before.
Kids are dead again and the best we can come up with is Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
