I know you’re not supposed to get political in blog posts.
This is not a political blog post but an observation.
What happened to the world my generation grew up in?
I remember that I felt safe riding my bike to school in Kendall, Florida, when my family first came to the United States. The toughest issues at my all-girls Catholic school back in Jamaica were making sure my uniform looked right, getting good grades, and not incurring the wrath of the Catholic nuns, like Sister Martinella or Sister Maureen Claire!
I never once worried about being shot by a gunman at school. The thought simply never crossed my mind.
Now parents are homeschooling their children because they do not trust our school systems to keep their kids safe. We have elementary school–age children and teenagers who are traumatized from seeing their classmates being shot and killed around them. These students will never forget those images. They will suffer from those memories for the rest of their lives.
I can tell you this because the images of the day my first husband, John, died at the age of thirty-seven still resonate with me. I still remember getting the phone call from his father that night after I went home to feed the dogs. I still remember driving way too fast to the hospital, fearing the worst. I still remember sprinting flat-out down the hallway toward John’s room while screaming his name. I still remember entering his room to find his mom slumped with her back against the wall, crying. I still remember holding his dead body while weeping uncontrollably and calling his name as if that would bring him back. And I still remember his father slowly taking photos and cards off the corkboard near John’s hospital bed with huge tears in his eyes.
These are images you never forget.
The brutal deaths of innocent students are images their families and the survivors will never forget.
In honor of the dead and wounded, let’s do something about it, America. It is time.
Until next time.