Pain
My day usually ends with watching Jon Stewart at midnight. Last night, after his 'moment of Zen', I switched to local and it was usual programming, MSNBC was re-running Chris Matthews. There was no indication that something horrific was happening a few miles south of where I live.
The sick feeling in the pit of the belly has yet to abate; I suspect it will linger like it did with Columbine, with Virginia Tech, with 9-11. There is tremendous comfort in the "we're okay" messages from friends in Aurora, but some of those friends are still waiting for word about others. As with other searing events, that waiting can seem endless.
It hurts. The tears are real. Also real is the universal horrified reaction that testifies to our ability to give a damn about people we might not even know.
-
