Today, I woke up and instantly had a blah feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Not only is it the anniversary of the tragic events that took place in Sandy Hook three years ago, but it also happens to be the date of my grandmother’s passing four years ago.  Needless to say, for lack of a better word, I had an ‘icky’ feeling.

I began reading some of the news stories remembering the children and heroes we lost that day and I just got sad.  Plain and simple – a wave of grief washed over me and I couldn’t help but wonder, how could such horrible sickness come into our schools?  The places where we send our children to learn and grow and thrive and be LOVED, how could such evil enter and rock our worlds?

Then I recalled the phone conversation with my grandfather yesterday afternoon.  He’s ninety-seven years old and was married to my grandmother for seventy years before she passed away.  There was grief in his voice as he recalled this being a tough month for him as their wedding anniversary is later this month.  As usual, we spent the bulk of our conversation talking about my grandmother, reminiscing and remembering, trying to let the good memories lift us up.

This morning, as I sat eating my breakfast, trying to shake the doldrums, I remembered a picture of my grandmother and me:

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That’s me in her arms, deathly afraid of the water, her holding me up, making me feel safe and (eventually) teaching me to swim.  You might have guessed where this is going… I then realized, on that awful morning three years ago, as those children’s lives were taken in a horrible way, their frightened souls were greeted by the warmth of not only my grandma, but countless others, wrapping them in love.

As the years go by, let us never forget them.  Life is precious, hug those you love, tell them you love them, live every day as if it’s your last.

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