This afternoon, alone in the car, driving to pick up Alice from school and listening to Runaway Train, my eyes welled up and I was overwhelmed by sadness. The sorrow just washed over me, and I couldn’t fight back the tears now running down my face. I thought about the little six year old boy who died in the arms of a beloved teacher, and how his mother wrote that knowing this gave her consolation. But I thought about the other 18 children who died in no one’s arms but their own.
I also thought about the little boy I used to babysit who grew into a young man that murdered his mother in a fit of madness. My heart aches when I think about the burden he will carry for the rest of his life and I pray that he will have the strength to shoulder it.