My children are no strangers of death. They understand the cycle of life and have said goodbye to pets, mourned with their friends who have lost parents and grandparents. My youngest stood by one of her closest friends who lost her younger brother unexpectedly of a heart problem. My girls have know acquaintances who suicided or died in accidents but tonight is the worst. My daughter calls me, sobbing “They found his body”–a friendship forged in high school at the Governor’s Scholars program, a young man–handsome, intelligent, gone missing two days before. A hate crime. My daughter is 2300 miles away. I cannot hold her. I can only cry with her from the distance, feel her pain and wonder how and why this happens.
Tonight I try to calm the vitriol that rises in my own throat, knowing that is not the answer but is of the same poison that killed this young man.
But it is hard.