Words always feel like a hopelessly inadequate response to a great tragedy. It makes me wonder what’s worse, an inadequate response or no response at all. I can’t answer that question other than to say a few words are all I have to offer, aside from a few tears. Words are what I do.
If it weren’t for the fact it happened, the senseless, brutal extermination of innocent children in their classroom would qualify as an unthinkable act, an act of barbarism that lies outside the horrific limits of human imagination. But it did happen.
Experiencing loved ones’ deaths has taught me to appreciate the value of shared grief and sympathy. They don’t change anything but they help in ways I don’t claim to understand.
So inasmuch as my inadequate words and my insignificant voice might add some small measure of value to the sad chorus of sympathy and grief, they are sincerely offered and sincerely felt.