Updated: 6/13/2016 at 11:02am EST
If you have spent any amount of time on this blog then you already know a little bit about me; including the fact that I have two children whom I love dearly.
My youngest is 10 years old and my oldest is 22. Yeah, I realize that there is a big difference in their ages but that’s just how the chips fell in my life and I wouldn’t change a thing about that.
Suffice it to say that my babies are my heart. And I mean that! With that said, as a mother, I am sick to death of watching the aftermath of a deranged lunatic’s murderous rampage against our nation’s children.
Just to be clear, for the purposes of this post, the terms ‘child’ or ‘children’ are applied to anyone who has not yet attained the age of 150.
Sorry folks but your mother sees you as her child -I don’t give a damn how old you are.
At any rate, in 2012, like most folks, I was glued to the TV when the Sandy Hook shootings occurred. I watched and cried as parents buried baby after baby after baby after baby.
I agonized as they eulogized the brave adults who lost their own lives trying to save their young students.
During that time, I remember looking at my youngest child (who was the same age as those kids) and thinking surely this massacre will be the turning point! Surely, all parents will come together and take a stand! Surely we can all agree that no civilian needs to own a freaking arsenal of semiautomatic rifles! Surely, this is the last straw!
The last straw! Right?
Oh hell no, it was NOT the last straw. In fact, there were many more murders to come and go. Each one resulting in a whole lot of nothing– from a legislative perspective.
Then this! The worse mass murder in U. S. history.
So who were the victims this time? I’ll tell you who they were. They were people, just like you or me; out having a good time. Many of them were young people who were about my son’s age with their whole lives ahead of them.
So what if most of them were members of the LGBTQ community?
To me, that’s beside the point!
The real and sobering fact of the matter is this, each and every person in that club was somebody’s son, daughter, uncle, aunt, brother, sister, father, mother, lover, husband, or wife ….and, to me, that MAKES IT PERSONAL!
Now if you don’t believe it should be taken personally, read this article about a text conversation between a mother and her son. By the way, this text conversation took place while this woman’s son was in attendance at The Pulse in Orlando, Florida this past Saturday night; the scene of the aforementioned mass murders.
Mind you, when this post was published, there had been no word on this young man’s fate. (Update: Sadly, CNN has confirmed that this young man, Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, did not survive.)
Friends, when I read this article, I couldn’t help but cry for this mother, Mina Justice, because one of her son’s first messages to her was “Mommy, I love you.” I cried because I have received that same type of message from my own son.
Frankly, I would argue that if you can read the above exchange, between mother and child, and remain unaffected, may God bless your numbed soul.
In fact, may God bless us all anyway –because we need it.
But it’s still personal and I am no longer planning to watch from the sidelines.