GOOD GRIEF

Today, I was pondering the tragic loss of innocent lives in yet another mass shooting at a high school.

While those in Washington were using it as an opportunity to further their political agendas, all I could think of was the parents of the children murdered.

One of my friends on Facebook who has never had children wrote, “17 dead kids .... How about just showing remorse for 24 hours before the mud slinging starts?”

This is what I thought. ‘Oh, God. Oh, God.’ It’s raw, horrific, unfathomable, sickening. When it happened to me, (my daughter died in an accident at the age of 7), all I wanted to do was die. I literally begged God to kill me.

The loss of a child is sheer torture. It is having your entire being assaulted, blindsided.

The phrase “Good Grief ” shot in my head. Where did that saying come from? There is nothing good about grief. It lasts for years, and just when you think you are doing better ....

The only way I found to describe it was that it was similar to a day at the beach. Standing knee deep in the water, you wave at friends on the shore. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a massive, unexpected, powerful wave slams into your body, stealthily attacking from behind. No forewarning. You fall forward, your head plunges underneath the water and then the nasty, sickening taste of pure saltwater fills your mouth. Pulling your head up, you attempt to stand as the rippling aftermath prevents a safe balance. That’s it. That’s what happens.

My take on it is there is nothing good about grief.

“What if ’s” badger the mind in an unrelenting assault.

“If only I hadn’t yelled at her for being late.” “He wanted to stay home today; I lectured him about responsibility as he raced to the bus.”

“Why didn’t I tell her I loved her this morning?”

Fill in the awful blanks of regret.

Sleep is a momentary relief. Then you wake up, still a little groggy; suddenly, you remember. The grief strikes in full force. Your body is the first to react; it wants to vomit. Self preservation kicks in and fights it.

Yes, I know it is a form of self-pity. You are really crying for yourself. They are gone. They don’t feel anything. You wish you could trade places but that isn’t allowed. No, we must stay behind and suffer.

Today, all I could think of was the parents of the children murdered.

This is what I thought. Oh, God. Oh, God.