As adults, we do what we have to do. We continue living, breathing, existing, surviving. We find ways to get through the trials. We do the best we can to keep moving forward.
What about the smallest, the youngest, the innocent, the most trusting among us? What about our kids?
I was reminded tonight of how much more was taken from them during that moment.
Will the physical and emotional scars ever heal? I don't know. Will there ever be a day when I don't feel that deep grief I feel seeing my husband in unrelenting pain? I don't know. Will he ever have a night that's not met with pain, insomnia or flashbacks? I don't know. Will it ever all make sense? I don't know.
What I do know is something I've been hesitant to speak because it's nearly unbearable. That moment stole something far more valuable from our children: their innocence, their child-like beliefs, their carefreeness, their ability to be absolutely and completely happy.
As I watched one of them give in to an adult-sized fear tonight and the other explaining it to me like this is a normal thing for them, my heart broke into a million pieces. This IS normal. For them it is. For most 9 & 10 year olds, it isn't.
I'm sitting in the quiet, lost in my thoughts, wondering if this will ever be over (the litigation stuff) and I think to myself "no amount of money in the world can fix this." If they offered us the key to Fort Knox, I would gladly and without hesitation hand it right back if it meant I could "fix" this.
