To the many of you who have asked and wondered of our welfare in the wake of the Newtown massacre, we are fine. In a state so small, there are far fewer than six degrees of separation between us and too many victims.
Suffice it to say I hugged Darling Bebe fiercely tonight and did not want to let go. Ever.
We weep. We will live with Sandy Hook, forever changed because of it. I cannot imagine the raw pain of being one of twenty mothers who packed a lunch, zipped a coat and tousled a head before school, not knowing it would be the last time.
I pray for every one of those moms and dads, sisters, brothers, grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles. May they find strength somehow, somewhere.
Updated: It was only a matter of time. One of the murdered teachers is the daughter of a friend. Every few hours, new details emerge that make the horror worse. When the chief medical examiner, a man I’ve known and respected for years, uncharacteristically steps in front of a bank of microphones and says it’s the worst he’s ever seen, that’s all I need to know.