No Words for Newtown



Well, it’s awful.



And…oh, my God.

We all feel it…

But words don’t meet the challenge.

It’s too much…

The knowledge that this can happen. That it did happen.

It weighs on my mind and fills my heart with heaviness.

In that, it has given me a common bond with every other person living in the shadow of this horror.

I’ve listened for what others have to say… watched to learn from how others handle it.

Words of comfort…

Words of sorrow…

Words of tribute…

Talk of change.

Our president is very good at this. Sadly, very well-practiced, too.

My sweet daughter brought it home by speaking of her own grief, her difficulty in talking to her own children, and by honoring their teachers.

Robert Genn, an artist whose newsletter almost never touches on the political, wrote of the tools that we choose, and eloquently suggested that we choose the paintbrush, the cello…not guns.

Here on Beaver Island, we met on the beach.

We lit candles.

There was some talk about the tragedy and the grief, the lack of understanding and how to move forward.

It was a good effort, but words seem to fall flat in the wake of this travesty.

There was a song. A prayer. Then the suggestion that, before parting, we give each other the sign of peace.

As we moved around to shake hands, pat shoulders, give hugs…I realized that was exactly what we needed.

A bit of comfort.


The knowledge that we’re all in this together.

And that is all that I have to offer.

Words are not sufficient.

14 responses »

  1. Thanks for sharing your reflection, Cindy. It’s a painful time for our country. I was pleased to hear this morning that Dicks has suspended sales of semi-automatic guns–and that Walmart is considering the same. Big hugs to you, my friend. My heart is with you!

    • Thanks so much, Kathryn. Yes, I think this may be a watershed event in America’s fascination with guns. Hugs right back to you…that’s the best we can do in the face of this awful thing. Thanks for reading!

  2. It’s a dark day in America when a senseless act of horror is what binds us tighter to loved ones. While my own heart was being shattered as each minute seemed like eternity, I couldn’t get the lyrics of Bob Geldoff out of my head…”and then the bullhorn crackles and the Captain tackles (with the problems of the how’s and why’s) And he can see no reasons ‘Cos there are no reasons…”.
    Because of your words, Cindy, the sun feels a lot brighter today. God bless you all on B.I. and God bless America.

    • Thanks, Jeff, for your kind words. You’re right…a senseless act…”no reasons ‘cos there are no reasons…”.
      Just heart-breaking. The best we can do is cling to the ones we love for a bit of comfort and reassurance at times like this. That’s what I wish for you, sweet man.

    • Thank you…I felt like I couldn’t write about anything else in the wake of this disaster, as it filled my thoughts…but I feel awfully distant, removed and safe to even have a right to speak, you know?

      • I understand. I readily indentify with the feeling for the rest of us are distant since we are not a part of that community. None the less- we have the right, privilege, and I think a certain responsibility to express our grief for it does impact the nation as a whole.

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