Newtown

I have been silent this week, unable to write a blog post or muster more than the occasional thought on Facebook, fearing, knowing my words would seem trite amid the magnitude of all we are experiencing. What hasn’t already been said by the hundreds of newscasters who line the narrow sidewalks, who lurk outside of stores, timidly asking passersby, “May I talk to you”? What hasn’t been said in thousands upon thousands of blog posts and tweets? I have no new perspective, no insight, no healing gift. I have nothing but my own paralysis: a tightness in every fiber of my body and the knowledge that I must keep moving but I cannot.

Last night, for the first time, there was no solid line of traffic through Sandy Hook Center, so I finally parked my car and walked through the intersection I have been driving through to get to funerals, shivas and run basic errands, returning home through the same intersection each night, bathed in lights from the Christmas decorations, overwhelmed by those of the huge memorials and news crews, lined with cars from places that most likely had never heard of Sandy Hook before last Friday. Case in point: The badge I wear to work says I live in Sandy Hook, NJ. It doesn’t matter that every form I filled out for that job states that I live in Sandy Hook, CT. Who ever heard of Sandy Hook, CT? I am torn between being grateful for the love pouring in to our community from all over the world and the desire for them to stop clogging this narrow intersection that was not meant for such volume.

I am a little freaked out by all the money being raised. I just got “friended” on Facebook by someone from Alberta Canada who wants me to be his “Point Person” for money he has been raising for one of the families I know who have been directly affected. I gave him the websites of two funds that I am aware of that will benefit this family. But why would he contact me? Why would he want to send money to me via Western Union? My defense mechanism against scam-artists is on high alert. These families have lost a child, not a home. Funeral Directors from far and wide have come to Newtown and donated their services. The funerals have been paid for. A cadre of chefs has set up camp in Edmond Town Hall and have been cooking and donating food for all the services. Yes, we will need money for the school itself, or whatever it is to become. But how else will money change what has happened here? The survivors of Super-Storm Sandy need homes, clothes, everything. Here in Newtown, no amount of money will replace these lost children and teachers. Someone explain this to me for my brain has stopped working. I don’t understand and I am frightened.