Friday

this week is finals week, which is always a stressful time for me, but I can usually function. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. but since friday, it doesn't really matter anymore. I can't imagine the loss that those parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters are feeling right now. I can't comprehend that something so heinous could happen to children. The loss of innocence, pure innocence, is incredibly heartbreaking. My son, M, is six. He was sitting in his kindergarten class room during the shooting and the aftermath. As the story unfolded, and even now, I can't help but picture Mas one of those children. I can't help but imagine the presents wrapped under the Christmas tree but no little one to open them. I can't imagine the pictures on the walls, or the stocking hanging from the mantel. I can't imagine staring at the Christmas cards that feature a face that is no longer walking this earth. The sense of loss and selfish relief is so strong. I mourn from the bottom of my heart for those children and their parents, but I can't help but feeling relieved that it wasn't M.

Finals and school seem so unimportant. I would rather spend every extra moment with M, selfishly.