A heavy heart

This morning I walked my first and fourth grader to school with a heavy heart.

My now fourth grader was six months old when 20 children and six adults were murdered in Sandy Hook. I remember holding her and watching the news and wondering what it would feel like to experience that unfathomable loss of a child.

My now first grader was one month old when nine people were murdered in their church in Charleston. I remember holding him and watching the news and wondering what it would feel like to feel that unfathomable loss of a parent or grandparent.

In between and before there have been countless mass shootings and individual losses. Just this weekend a 22 month old in a neighboring community was killed by her uncle during a petty argument that escalated with access to a gun.

And yesterday I felt the gut punch of realizing that fourth grade class in Texas is made up of kids and teachers just like mine.

My heart aches for all those in Ulvade right now. My heart aches for so many all around our country. My heart aches for parents and teachers walking into schools this morning wondering if they're safe. Wondering what to tell their students.

But I am angry. Angry at myself for not speaking up more. Angry at a culture that prioritizes the right to bear arms over the right to not lose a child to gun violence. Angry at our elected leaders for not listening to the will of the people (90% support some level of gun control measures). Angry that the collective "we" ring our hands and are told "sorry, nothing can be done."

We the people want change.

We the people have had enough.

We the people deserve more.

This isn't an issue for big communities alone or small communities. For one part of the country or another. This impacts us all. This is a Dover issue just as much as it's a Buffalo or Sandy Hook or Charleston or Parkland or Columbine or Ulvade issue. It's a uniquely American issue and it's up to us to fix it.

Not one more.

Enough.