There is a profound sadness in our collective soul. From this sadness comes hatred, accusations, assumptions, and blame.
And the inevitable "if onlys"...
If only he had a smaller magazine.
If only he had a knife.
If only the teachers were armed.
If only the school was locked.
If only he didn't kill his mother.
If only he didn't have Aspergers.
If only he wasn't insane.
If only we locked up the mentally unstable.
If only he had enough money to buy medication.
If only he took his medication.
If only his medication didn't have side effects.
If only this had happened in an inner-city.
If only everyone paid more taxes.
If only everyone paid less taxes.
If only we had national health care.
If only he had been a responsible gun owner.
If only he went to the police station instead of a school.
If only he couldn't drive to get there.
If only it was a high school.
If only he was still a minor.
If only his parents hadn't divorced.
If only he didn't play video games.
If only he didn't watch TV.
If only God was allowed in schools.
If only God wasn't allowed in schools.
If only he hadn't killed 1st graders.
26 "if onlys". One for each of the victims killed in Newtown.
And none of them are right or wrong.
I am not educated enough, clever enough, or powerful enough to tell you what the right answer is to "why did this happen?"
And neither are you.
What happened in Newtown is a tragedy. A tragedy that strikes me like no other because I have a first grade son, with autism, in our schools, that I want to protect. I want to do everything within my power to make sure this can never happen again. But, as the ironic song that titles this post suggests, it's not that simple. I am willing to take some time and listen to both sides of the arguments on gun control, health care, mental health services, god in schools, violence in the media, school safety, insanity, broken homes, taxes, genetics, prescription drugs, Autism, and atrocity.
How can we think about the unthinkable? How can we justify the unjustifiable? How can we explain the inexplicable? How can we listen to what can not be said? There are 26 less people to answer those questions now... most of them children.
Children for fuck's sake.
I've been trying to write something this entire week about Newtown. However, every time I try I'm just simply overtaken with a profound sadness. I don't live in Connecticut, but I am the father of every one of those souls that were taken from me. We all are.
And it's okay to not have the answers yet.
It's okay to simply be sad.
Thank you for reading this, truly.