Sundays are supposed to be for me; my writing time. Sunday is the one day I get to write about the things I’m passionate about instead of writing for clients. But this Sunday I awoke to the news of the deadliest mass shooting in US History. Bigger than Columbine. Bigger than Newtown. Bigger than any mass shooting in the history of the United States, and we’ve had so many.
Less than 2 hours away from my home, in a town people from all over the world bring their children to experience the wonder of Disney and fulfill childhood dreams, a man massacred more than 50 people with an AR-15.
At 2 am, in a nightclub, a man indiscriminately cut down more than 50 people he didn’t know.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
Soon social media will be aflame with rage from both sides of the political spectrum. Gun control advocates will ask why anyone who isn’t in the military should have an AR-15. Gun rights advocates will invoke the 2nd amendment, a bill ratified on December 15, 1791, in and for a different world from the one we live in now.
Nothing will change.
We’ve become numb to mass shootings. We rail against them and weep social media tears, but nothing changes. Until the will of the majority of our citizens wants change, it won’t come.
So here I sit, like so many other parents, numb with disbelief and trying to find the words to answer my 9-year-old daughter’s continued questions on “why?” Why would anyone have so much hate in their heart? Why can this country not collectively find an answer to stop this madness?
I have no answers. Just buckets full of heartache. I sit here on my day unable to write or think about anything but this new heartache.
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