I devour the news. When bad things happen I sit and watch, trying to find out the facts. I want to know. It’s one of the reasons I went to journalism school. I was great at breaking news and proud of it.
I felt very lucky to find a job that allowed me to be in front of the news, disseminating. I was glued to what was happening around the world but I was allowed to be – I was supposed to be.
When bad things happen I still turn on the news, refresh Twitter, read Internet news. I want the facts, I want to know what’s going on.
Twitter broke the news to me that something very, very bad was happening. I started gathering bits and pieces and finally turned on the news and I spent the afternoon crying and listening as things in Newtown, Connecticut got worse and worse.
I cried and I hugged my daughter close. My husband told me to turn off the news, but we both knew that was not me. I kept watching as the news became more solid and the panic subsided so the mourning could set in.
I cannot wrap my head around what has happened. I cannot begin to think of sending my child to kindergarten one morning before Christmas and not seeing her alive again. It’s as though we’re meant to fear the world for them.
I feel lucky that my child is not old enough to register what’s going on beside the fact that mommy is sad. I don’t know how I would explain this. I suppose there will come a time when another tragedy forces my hand.
I’m going to wake up tomorrow and remember and cry again, remembering that there are parents who are waking up to a nightmare. There will be no answers.