Yesterday I quoted a line from a journalist who, in thoroughly politicizing the tragedy of this weekend’s shooting in Tucson, wrote that the “massacre in Tucson is, in a sense, irrelevant to the important point.”
The families and friends of the murdered victims might take exception with what “the important point” of the Tucson massacre is. For them, it’s not about manipulating the death of their loved ones to advance a political agenda; for them, it is about honoring the lives of the dead and the overwhelming grief that is now engulfing them.
If you want to see an absolutely heartbreaking interview that reminds us of the human cost of murderous rampages, watch this interview with John Green, the inconsolable father of the 9-year-old victim, Christina, who was gunned down in Tucson. It is an extraordinary and deeply affecting moment; Mr. Green showed tremendous grace in honoring the memory of his beloved daughter. He cried through parts of the interview, and so will you.
On Saturday night, while watching news stories about the shooting, I kept thinking about the victim’s families and the suddenness of the tragedy; of how they began their Saturday like any other Saturday until, because of the actions of a madman, their world came crashing down around them. The poet John McCrae wrote (in a very different context) words that stayed with me that night and since: “Short days ago; We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie.”
Christina Green, like the other victims, loved and was loved; and she is still loved. We may enter part of the Green’s world for a time and grieve with them — but soon, for us, life will go on. For them it will, too; but life will never, ever be the same. Their world has fractured and will never be fully repaired. For those who believe in prayer, this is one family (and not the only one) that deserves it.
(h/t: HotAir’s Ed Morrissey)