Senseless.

For days I've been wanting to sit down and write out my feelings about what happened in Newtown, Connecticut last Friday.

And for days I've been unable to write.

Friday morning I saw a breaking news alert on my phone that said there was a shooting at a school in Connecticut and initial reports said three people were injured. I didn't give it much thought again (how sad is THAT?!?) until I turned on the television around 1 p.m. Friday afternoon and started seeing reports that said children were some of the victims.

I sat here at my laptop that afternoon, CNN muted in the background while I listened to a conference call for work. I had to avoid even looking at the television for fear of breaking down into tears during the call.

What I wanted to do instead of listening to work-related things was hop in my car, drive to school and pick up Olivia and Emma.

Instead, I hugged them as soon as they got off the school bus. I hugged them just a little bit harder than normal as we stood in the middle of the driveway. They must have thought mommy had lost her mind.

I've been trying to process what happened all weekend long.
I can't do it.
I can't force it to make sense.
Because it doesn't make sense.
It will never make sense.

There is no way that any amount of time or evidence will make sense of what happened last week at Sandy Hook Elementary. Twenty first grade students were murdered for absolutely no reason. Someone on the radio this morning said the biggest accomplishments these kids had so far was passing kindergarten and maybe losing a tooth.

And just like that they were gone.
This will never make sense.

So where do we go from here?

Sure we will continue to hug our kids harder and we'll worry every time we send them off to school. Do I think my kids are safe at their school? Not entirely. As parents we are now horribly aware of how easy it is for someone to get into a school and do horrific amounts of damage.

Do I think the fact that you're supposed to get "buzzed in" to my kids' school keeps them safe from crazy? No I don't think that keeps them safe. But it is a start. And that's better than nothing I suppose.

And so the question becomes "now what?" The president called us all to action last night and it's about damn time we all did something about it. Because as sad and horrified as I am about what happened last Friday, I'm also really, really angry. I'm angry that it's easier to buy a gun than it is to register to vote or to buy a car. I'm angry that people think the Second Amendment gives them the right to own semi-automatic guns for their "protection." And I'm angry that the politicians we elect to serve us would rather cower in fear from the NRA than stand up and say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

We might never be able to make sense of what happened last Friday. But we as a nation can certainly work together to make sure it never happens again. Our children deserve to be safe. And it's our job to ensure that safety.

Sadness

Have you ever made a decision, knowing in your brain that it's the RIGHT decision, but feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness in your heart? Feeling those two very different and conflicting emotions at the same time is exhausting and maddening.

And that's where I am tonight, friends. Knowing that we did the right thing and that in the end, it'll be for the best. But feeling so sad that I don't know what to do.

Tuesday was a horrible, gut-wrenching day for my household. My husband and I had to make a decision no pet owner should ever have to make. And while my brain says we did the right thing for everyone involved - feline and humans - my heart is heavy tonight.

Heavy as in full of industrial grade cement heavy.
My children are devastated and don't understand why their pet isn't ever coming home.
I feel guilty about the choices I made.
I feel sick about the fact that my kids are so sad.
I can't make the girls understand why he's never coming back.

I thought I had cried all my tears yesterday, but as I walked around the house tonight, turning off lights and locking doors, it hit me. I would never trip over him again in the dark as he wound himself around my feet, begging to be fed for the third or fourth time in one day. I'd never again hear his insistent meows as he told me how hungry he was. I would never spend my evenings, curled on the couch with him, rubbing his ears as he purred himself to sleep.

And once again, the tears flowed freely.

I know our decision was the right one, even though it feels like a kick in the gut every time I think about it. I know this too shall pass and the kids won't be sad anymore and I won't feel so terribly, horribly guilty.

But right now, at this very moment in time, all I want is to hear his purring and find him sleeping on my lap as I watch TV.