A long week

I’m not from Boston. I am definitely not a runner. But I am a human and at the end of the day, that shared commonality is all I really need. My grief may not be as keenly felt, but it is there, gnawing at my heart.

I am tired of tragedy. I am tired of waking up to news of dead children, of gun fights, of manhunts, and of a government so unwilling to listen to the voice of the people they are supposed to represent. I realize it is a dangerous rabbit hole to combine tragedy with politics, but it seems impossible not to.

I understand that tragedy is part of the human experience. I understand that as Americans we experience far less tragedy than do citizens of many other countries. I understand that there is much to be grateful for, and I am. But I am also scared and disgusted and appalled.

I’m disgusted at the senators who killed a bill that the majority of people in this country support.

I’m appalled by the fact that an organization like the NRA has a greater voice than the American public.

I’m scared that some people think that safety only exists when looking down the barrel of a gun.

Fred Rogers said to look for the helpers. The Dalai Lama reminds us that for every bad act there are so many more good. But sometimes the good, sometimes the helpers, sometimes, they are just to hard to see. Sometimes, the color of grief is just too dark.


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