I can’t make sense of it all.  Writing helps me process.

I was allowed to hug him tight as we fell asleep last night and help make his coffee this morning before he left for work.  She wasn’t.  Our children got to look their Dad in the eye last night and tell him they loved him.  They didn’t.  Friends have been sending panicked messages since yesterday afternoon and I have been able to reply and assure them he is okay.  When she gets those messages, her reply confirms the worst.

The events at FSU on Wednesday scared all of us with college aged children because they could have been there.  On a deeper level it scared me because it could have been Chris rushing towards the shooter.  That is always there – the reality that any normal day could turn into the worst day of my life, in an instant.  That happened to her yesterday.

Tears of relief for our family mixed with grief for theirs continue to flow off and on. When I read friends’ messages that reference “our” Chris tears from the deepest part of me well up.  A new awareness that he isn’t just mine has formed. When someone is brave enough to work for our community in professions that put them in harms way, they belong to all of us.  That is what I feel certain we must embrace for Chris Smith’s family now – a combined effort to care for them because of how he cared for us.

They shared a name and the same birthday – but what every single one of our men and women on duty share is a love for their community, a dedication to public safety and a willingness to put themselves in harms way to keep us safe.