And six adults who cared for and taught those children. Those six- and seven-year-old children.
I have nothing to add. No political statement to make. I am heart-wrenchingly sad, and I need to say it. I can't speak it. I can't speak the words out loud without choking up and crying, so I'm saying it here instead. How does someone go on after that?
I have a six-year-old. My six-year-old came home from school on Friday. Those children listed above did not. Twenty of them. Twenty families who are suffering in a way that I cannot conceive. When I think about it, I become nauseous and have to stop, because how can you comprehend something like that? I cannot, and so I keep reading and rereading the list of names. Imagining what they were like. Trying not to imagine the horror of that elementary school yesterday. Trying not to imagine their families and classmates today.
Trying to understand how one goes on.