Yesterday I was doing some editing and talking on the phone, when I was told to look at the news. A man had taken hostages at the Discovery Channel just outside of Washington, DC. There was a gun, and possibly explosives. I got off the phone. I put on CNN. I watched, and then had parenting duties.
I put the television back on a few hours later. It was over. He was dead. The hostages were released. Whether or not he had a family, I don’t know. For them, his death is a tragedy. For those who lived through the afternoon of terror, there will be a slow path to regaining a sense of normalcy, if ever.
Yesterday I read a friend’s writing about her pregnancy; she’s waiting on news. News that everything is alright. She’s scared. A new life hangs in the balance. She asked for prayers, and many of us added to that very private, very particular chorus of entreaties.
Last evening, my son gave me a paper to glance at. As a high school student, gone are the days when the subject matter is straightforward, or something I master from my own school days, or “just life.” But this was of interest – an extensive piece of research in the works, on Vietnam and the news media.
I couldn’t help but read with fascination, finding that I recall those years better than I imagined, a time when images of violence flooded into our living rooms, forming the wake-up call to the horrors of war. Yes, the news reshaped our consciousness. Yes, the media chose words that subtly and powerfully exerted influence. Perhaps one of the side effects of our social media age is a lessening of the political power that broadcast news wielded in those days. On the other hand, it was impossible to pretend that unspeakable acts were anything but real.
I am not here to debate the merits of war. Of so-called righteous wars and those which we – or the pundits – may deem otherwise.
I am not here to debate media coverage and influence.
I am reflecting on my own history, and yesterday, which is already history. I am reflecting on tragedy that hits on a massive scale and is too immense for us to fully comprehend. When loss occurs in small numbers, or affects those we love, it’s another matter.
This morning I read an email from a blogging friend. Her ex, who remained an honorable and good co-parent to their children, was struck by a vehicle while bicycling. He passed away.
I do not know him. I know her only through blogging. I cannot begin to fathom the complex road she will need to navigate in these next weeks, months, and years. This is tragedy. For her, for her family, for his family, for their friends and colleagues.
This morning, I can’t help but remember the suddenness of my father’s death, the fact of feeling the impact of the crash when it happened – a car accident – a hundred miles away. And then the phone call, some time afterward, that he was dead. He was there, and then he was gone. He was my “good” parent – the one who loved me unconditionally, the one I’d only gotten to know in the past few years, the one who had righted my world, briefly, in adulthood.
News. I am thinking about news. I am thinking about those good men and good women who are taken from us by natural disaster, by unexpected tragedy, by violence, by accident. I am thinking of those lives that have only begun to form, by the parents who want them with their whole hearts, who love them even before they have a name, or a tiny hand with fingers to wrap around our own.
I will drive with my son to school in a few minutes, grateful that he is there beside me. Then there are errands, there are phone calls, there are some tasks for a friend. And processing this news – all this news – and my own memories. Personal tragedies, near tragedies. The inexplicable loss and pain for some, and life as usual for others.
I find no sense in it. I only wish I could.
They have increased security at my building though it is miles from the site where the events took place yesterday. I have not heard if he had a family either though they have reported that he had chosen to be homeless despite having resources and property.
Those events took place just miles from a dinner at the White House in which leaders of battling countries sat and dined to attempt to begin a process toward peace.
Life is short. Every day I am reminded that life is fragile, short, and precious. Some want to cradle it like a beautiful piece of china… I am encouraged to live it as fully as possible and ensuring that I speak and give my love as I go!
TE, it’s incomprehensible, isn’t it? As you say, that event taking place so close to attempts, again, to make peace.
Yes, speaking our love as we go. When I dropped my son off at school this morning, I said “I love you.” He looked at me strangely for a second – no doubt wondering why I would say it that moment (it’s usually an evening thing, not a hectic-running-late-in-the-morning thing). And he said “I love you, too.” Not a bad thing to hear, anytime.
Wow. That’s a lot to process in a day, but life is exactly like that, isn’t it? It keeps piling on some days. Good luck!! I will also say some little prayers for those you speak on…couldn’t hurt.
The thing at the Discovery building is near where my parents worked in DC–where I grew up. They’re not there now, thank goodness, but the fear still rises. It made me recall the shootings at Virginia Tech (where I graduated) and all the sadness and worry flooded back. I try to feel for the person who did the act, too, because obviously he was tortured by something, but it’s hard when they cause harm to others. I am glad it had a (mostly) happy ending.
Good luck today!
Nothing like a little perspective but trying to make sense of it is a waste of time. Sometimes, things just make no sense at all.
Violence is so senseless, and it’s difficult to process things that you can’t understand. We hear about more of it now, but I think it’s not new – it’s just better publicized. The weapons are a bit more sophisticated. The horror will never change.
“The inexplicable loss and pain for some, and life as usual for others.”
I remember when my mom died. I was immobilized with grief and yet the world continued. Life continued. And that hurt the most.
I heard this morning he was an eco-terrorist. WTH?!? There are some things we’ll just never understand, but all we can do is just what you did: parent our children, love and comfort our friends and loved ones, and sleep with the knowledge that no matter what mistakes we have made that day, we have done nothing to intently hurt others, nor have our kids. Sometimes, that has to be enough.
“The inexplicable loss and pain for some, and life as usual for others.” ~ I read this quote and I immediately thought of that song “Without You” from Rent. When my grandmother suddenly died (10 years ago today, in fact) I remember wanting to shake everyone I met and scream “Stop what you’re doing! A beautiful human being left this earth today!” And with the Discovery Channel tragedy, I glossed over it, thinking yes, tragic, horrible but lucky for me no one I know works there. But then, this morning, I find out that a sweet blogging friend had her husband in the building, the whole time and she was left hanging with a 12 second phone call from him that was cut short because of dramatic events inside. We are all so intrinsically connected, in ways we can never fully fathom.
It’s an amazing thing isn’t it? Nothing seems so wrong as a bright sunny day when you are attending the funeral of a loved one. The surprise that other people are enjoying their day in the sun when surely the world has shifted on its axis. Hard to fathom the paradox when you’re on the mourning side.
In spite of all the criticism of the in your face aspect of the news, I think it individualizes the big tragedies, which I think is so important. One of my favorite shows is on the Discovery Channel so, strangely enough, yesterday’s tragedy felt inexplicably personal to me. I’m thankful the Discover people got away but am saddened that the perpetrator didn’t.
I’m so sorry about your friend’s husband. Her life is surely turned upside down while the rest of us obliviously go on. Thanks for this thoughtful article.
Sometimes a lot of these thing pile up at once, the life and death coming at us quickly so that it’s impossible to process, not that it’s ever possible to process. Last year, within a four week time period, I went to 4 or 5 funerals or memorial services. Normally I go to zero in a year. It was certainly enough to get my notice, to make me melancholy and to think, okay, I’m willing to find the message in this.
Well, for some excellent news, the pregnant friend is doing better. And that one piece of good news trumps a lot of the bad, in my book. It’s the sort of thing that reminds us – just like sudden and inexplicable terrible news – that sometimes things turn around, against the odds.
As a point of clarification, I didn’t mean I wanted the Discovery hostage taker to get away, I meant I’m sorry he died. That’s what I get for making late night comments!
SF – I think that was totally clear. I certainly understood that from your remarks.