No mention of my friend in the headlines today. It has only been two weeks since he and forty-eight others were taken out in the U.S.' worst mass shooting. We Americans have continued to do what we do best: we look for something to distract us. We're back to Donald Trump and whether or not Richard Simmons is still Richard Simmons. I have often heard it said that the 'media' distracts us, but I have come to believe that we choose the distraction. If it's more pleasant and sunnier than what we're dealing with now, the media is all too happy to give us what we need. We're just self-medicating by subject-surfing.
"What's Sandy Hook?"
I heard that question the other day from someone who follows the news but had forgotten about twenty or so kids who were assassinated by a madman at their elementary school in December 2012. I do not blame him completely. I blame American apathy. And I am a party to that blame. Unless you've been a tireless voice for violence awareness, the blame is yours also.
A helpless defeatist resides in my home today. Ten years ago, he was advocating for everything from LGBT Equality to Global Peace. Fifteen years ago, he was a passionate teen, hellbent on tackling the issues that faced mankind.Today, the man is--as a popular song lyric goes, "not broken, just bent." His outlook is bent to the point of breaking, but eternal hope keeps him going. He looks at world events with resignation, a weariness brought on by years of activism, years of caring when others did not, years of social and political upheaval. This defeatist feels empowered to do nothing just yet as the murders are still raw. He questions his faith in his country--and has had plenty of justifiable reasons to question that of his government. And so he sits. And he waits.
So I sit. And I wait.
I wait for the next murders. I know they are coming. I wait for the description of the assault rifle. I wait to see the memorials to the victims. I wait to see the grandstanding by our politicians who cry for change. I wait for the silence from the NRA. I wait for the prayers from a people whose Christ rallied against violence. I wait for another eloquent yet predictable speech from my President. And in waiting for all of these things, I must accept that I am partially to blame for all of these things.
In Central Florida, a woman who bore only one child no doubt faces sleepless nights and days of anguish from the forced acceptance that she will never hear her only child's voice again. In Connecticut, a little girl gets balloons marking the anniversary of when she was born ten years before. But the balloons are flying high above the little girl's tombstone--a reminder to all of an innocent life taken all too soon.
Today, I carry on. I work, I laugh, I eat, I sleep, I converse about topics not related to murder. But the remnants of murder are staying with me just below the surface.
And I hope the remnants of murder stay with you as well.
