It was a shock beyond imagining. I was 19. My brother was 15, and my mother was 42. My father was a gift, and we were closely tied.
I read about the children from Sandy Hook going to school yesterday, about all the help they are receiving, and the bonds that have formed, and yet, that shock.
My life was changed 44 years ago. I lost something. I always keep this day quiet, and sacred, and special treats of renewal and connection always come my way. I used to think I would get "over it". Now, I know it is part of who I am. Perhaps there is a sacredness in allowing that pain to nurture my nature with love and care.