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The following was written as a cathartic response to the massacre of many children beginning their precious last hours at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut.
I am trying hard to embrace 52. In more and more instances I find myself thinking about how much time I have left with my children. Not the time until they are out of the house, but the years left in my life. Melancholy holiday thought yes, but when you hit a certain age you do begin to view life from that point of reference. The true realization of death is scary, although less so than it has been prior, for me at any rate. It is more a deep, calm acceptance, a deep sadness.
Though thoughts such as this aren’t in and of themselves positive, they do have a positive affect on my actions. Realizing that though time may move on steadily, our time is but an instant. Recognizing that fact sees me loving my children even more deeply. Such a sentiment reveals to me I am in need of checking my priorities, to see if any have shifted to a place where they gain higher prominence on life’s ladder than they should. Our country is in need of this check. As I see it, the horror of this massacre is our check. We have lost sight of what our priorities should be and what they should have been.
With the shocking event of this past week, the innocent died with fear in their hearts at the hands of an unstable individual with easy access to guns. These are two issues of which we as citizens need to strongly consider changing our current treatment. As we discuss, debate and linger too long on the trivialities of new laws, changes in healthcare and in the management of mental illness, the parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters will be left to grieve. They will be left with a hole in their hearts. They will be left to try to rationalize a tragedy that cannot be rationalized. A new incident will occur while nothing will have moved forward in an effort to save our children.
This horror has added to my preoccupation with time and my children. Forever grateful I am to have them in my life and they have blessed me with their different personalities and strengths. I do not want to regret. I do not want to spend my later years searching for ways to make up for lost time, for time I missed laughing, arguing, teaching and playing with my children, my children that still have a life to experience. They have years, days. They have minutes. Minutes that were stolen from eager innocent youngsters learning of the wonder of living.
Mary Jane's Shoes 