“Oh, Uvalde, So Much To Answer For”
On the day that the shootings happened, I was on a flight bound for London.
I didn’t learn of this atrocity until the following day, Wednesday, when I arrived. While attempting to recover from jet lag, I was also trying to process this and I just…couldn’t. The more I read about it, the more images I looked at, it was beyond comprehension. It was beyond understanding. It was just…beyond anything that could ever possibly be conceived in a civil society.
As I’ve been away during these last few weeks, upon returning to this “country” I have been beset by immense overwhelming sadness: and I am but one of many. So much has already been written about the shock, anger, grief, sadness, the almost unbearable graphic descriptions of the children, the utterly inexcusable, destestable and overwhelming incompetence of the “police” that did absolutely NOTHING, that I am truly at a loss for words.
On the Friday of my first week in London, I sat outside in the garden of a lovingly restored Victorian house, surrounded by beauty, flowers, and the sound of birds and I cried. I cried for the children, I cried for the teachers. I cried for the classmates. I cried for the parents. I cried for the senseless brutality of a country that would allow such an event to happen at all.
