Three years ago today I was sitting on the floor of the weight room at the Y when a staff member came in and asked me if I had a child in the Newtown Public Schools.
I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good.
A couple hours later I learned that twenty first graders had been shot to death just a few miles away, at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
At the time, Number 4 was in first grade.
And now, Number 5 is in first grade.
I just spent a while watching her tonight.
Watching her sleep.
Three years later, I still can’t spend more than a moment thinking about what happened in that school. Because I just can’t imagine.
I cannot imagine tonight being the last time I ever get to see this.
I cannot imagine the past three years without Number 4.
Had she been in one of those classrooms three years ago, she would have been gone.
We wouldn’t have seen her singing her heart out in chorus concerts. We wouldn’t have seen her making the travel basketball team or qualifying for Age Groups or playing the saxophone.
We wouldn’t have celebrated her seventh birthday by getting our nails done together, or her eighth birthday by strolling around downtown New Milford, or her ninth birthday by getting out of school early and having a special lunch at the Olive Garden.
She wouldn’t have made it to North Carolina on vacation last summer or to the Bronx Zoo or learned how to ride her bike or had her first ice cream at Peachwave or run up Heartbreak Hill with me at the Boston Marathon.
She wouldn’t have run a successful lemonade stand business this summer, or won a trophy for coming in third place with me at the Mother/Daughter 5K.
She wouldn’t have run a mud run with her brothers and her grandpa and she wouldn’t have learned how to make her own hummus.
I can’t imagine life without her.
And that’s why, tonight, I let her get away with a little more than usual. I didn’t ask her about her homework. And I let her eat Lucky Charms for breakfast and for snack. And for dessert.
Tonight I got to tuck Number 4 in, give her a kiss and tell her how much I love her.
There are 20 sets of parents who aren’t able to do the same thing tonight, or ever again.
I can’t fathom what that feels like, and I really hope I never have to.
Go give your kids a hug. Watch them sleeping. Smell their hair. Touch their cheeks. Kiss them until you rouse them and they swat you away.
Because things can change in an instant.
And because you can.
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Heartbreaking…as a mom and a teacher the Newtown shooting shook me to the core. Your post is so, so true. My babies are 17 and 20 this year and I still watch them sleep.
Thanks for your post.
I can’t imagine how any parent survives the death of a child. How they remember to breath, to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. A heart, once shattered, will never be the same. I hope everyone out there gives their child an extra hug, an extra kiss. In the world we live in now, you never know when it will be the last. Prayers and hugs to all of the broken hearted parents out there whose lives will never ever be the same.
I think of those poor babies every single day. I can’t imagine what their families went through that day, or what their lives have been like since. My son was in preschool the day it happened, and let me tell you, for almost a month afterward I teared up every time I saw him. The truth is, it could have been him. It could have been any child.. and the way this world has gone absolutely crazy the past year, it still can be. So yes, I watch all 3 of my kids sleep. I make sure I tell them every time I see them that I love them, give them long lingering hugs. Let them come sleep in our bed with us when they need to, or just want to. Because, you just never know.
I’m sobbing. I don’t know how those parents are surviving but they’re in my prayers. My two little guys get extra kisses tonight. Thank you Susie for this beautiful reminder to be grateful for every moment. Life changes in an instant.
You are not my friend anymore. I do not like to cry at work and you just made me cry. 🙁
I simply can not imagine losing my child. I don’t know how one would go on.
(And no, don’t ask me why i’m reading at work, other than to tell you this is my prep period and there are no students in my classroom).
Thank you very much. Now I must go to my son and give him a big hug <3