A difficult goodbye

My middle son and I many, many years ago.

Did you feel it this morning? That little touch of fear as your kids got on the bus? Last Friday morning, you didn’t think a thing about it, did you?  Nope, it was just the everyday chaos of getting your kids out the door. But the world changed Friday. OK, the world probably didn’t change, but our perception of it did. Our bubble of security was popped by a mentally ill young man who savagely killed beautiful, innocent children.  And a part of our innocence died with them.

Sure the odds are such that it is highly unlikely that we’d ever be affected by such a tragedy.  But we know a little about the odds here in Mississippi. Ask the parents of the students shot at Pearl High School.  Ask my friend who was shot by a man firing on people with an AK-47.  The odds are what they are.

I’m a firm believer that good things come from bad situations. But this one — well this one is much more difficult. The slaughter of young children is nearly impossible to find a silver lining for.  But maybe some good can come from such a horrific page in our history. As a nation, we’re going to have some grownup conversations about mass shootings.  What are the roots of these type of killings?  Is our mental health system failing the very people it needs to be helping?  And I’d imagine we will discuss a topic that is almost sacred in the South: Guns.

It won’t be easy.  But we’ll do it. Right now, though, we’ll mourn as little bodies are lowered into the grown much too soon.

I saw my middle son as I walked out the door.  I was at a loss for words so I just looked at his blue eyes, blonde hair and his smile.  My brain knows he will have a good, safe day today. But my heart worries just a bit.

And I won’t take for granted when I see his face again.