What's been hard for me, though, is the parents. I've actively avoided reading any statements or seeing pictures of the parents. Because when I think about them, I think about the moment I was told my daughter had died. Thankfully, her death was peaceful. Thankfully, she did not die full of fear, or in pain.
But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt me.
I've gotten good at ignoring my pain over the past 6 1/2 years. It's not all encompassing. I've learned out to let my joy stand side-by-side and, most of the time, shine brighter. But there are still moments when I feel it. When I really feel it. And then, it hurts just the same, just as deeply, just as sharply. And when I think about those parents, those poor poor broken families, I remember when my life was shattered, and I really feel it.
And it hurts.
I went and bought a green and white bouquet today. It was actually almost by accident. I just fell in love with it and didn't place it until a few minutes later I remembered that green and white are Sandy Hook's school colors. I took it to the Columbine Memorial.
