As a Nation Mourns, Families Find Forgiveness

Fighting back tears with his voice cracking, Parker asked Saturday night that the tragedy "not turn into something that defines us, but something that inspires us to be better, to be more compassionate and more humble people."

“I’m not mad … If there’s anything I can do to help anyone anywhere, I’m willing to do that.”

“I don’t know how to get through something like this. My wife and I don’t understand how to process all of this. We find strength in our religion and in our faith and in our family. ”

“It’s a horrific tragedy and I want everyone to know our hearts and prayers go out to them. This includes the family of the shooter. I can’t imagine how hard this experience must be for you and I want you to know our family … love and support goes out to you as well.”

These are the words of Robbie Parker, a heartbroken father who lost his beloved eldest daughter, Emilie, in the Sandy Hook Elementary School Massacre Friday morning.  Just hours after learning his six-year-old was among the dead, he told news reporters - and the public - to take strength and inspiration from the tragedy.  He spoke of his bright, artistic little girl as a compassionate and caring sister, daughter, and friend.

As a nation, the United States has been ridden with dozens of heart-wrenching events.  From Columbine to 9/11 to the Batman Premiere Shooting, citizens have mourned together, glued to their televisions, radios, and social media news updates to seek consolation, reason, and peace.

But never like this.

An elementary school.  Children who still had the halo of innocence, the joi de vive, the compassion and empathy to constantly doodle up a get well card from someone who was having a bad day.  Robbed of their lives, and their classmates, now bearing the heavy burden of witnessing such a horrific event.  No doubt it will be burned in our memories forever, but for now, we all try to find a way to "get past this."

 We all have our own ways to grieve, and though I can't even imagine what the families of those children are going through, or the horror the family of the shooter must be experiencing, my deepest sympathies are with them, and, as cliche as it sounds, my heart is plagued with it's own quest to find solace.

I'm not a particularly religious person, but I am a member of a large family - a family I happened to spend this past weekend with.   After an extended family holiday gift exchange, welcoming a couple new lives into our confused chaos, a few gathered around the dining table and talked for hours.  A large portion of the conversation was dedicated to "family" and "forgiveness," amidst reliving memories of my late aunt and godmother, the sweetest, most gentle woman you'd ever meet, Diane, who was taken from us by Pancreatic Cancer three years ago.  There were several events that we spoke of surrounding her passing, and a handful of events following, and they're personal details close to my family that won't be shared here, but they're events I've struggled with for years, trying to find a way to forgive these people, my family, for doing.  My own family members, despite recounting a series of events with anger, also showed their maturity, their compassion, and their forgiveness.

And here is this man, extending his sympathies to a family who bourne his daughter's murderer.

What incredible strength.  Both this man and his family, enduring a most impossible pain, but still a sense of compassion towards - to them - just another greiving family, and the women I sat with at a dining room table until 4am Sunday morning, extending forgiveness to family members who - in my opinion - don't deserve it, simply because "they're family, and sometimes you just have to find a way to let it be."

Like I said, I'm not a religious person, but I do have people in my life who inspire me.  Like the strength, acceptance, forgiveness, and sturdy loyalty of both the Parker family, and the women I am proud to call my blood.

Today, dear readers, I am humbled.

Sources providing the quotes for Robbie Parker:
CNN
ABC

My unbearably adorable cousin, Ava, 3, the granddaughter of my late aunt and godmother, Diane Cornwell.  Ava was born just a few months before Aunt Di passed away, and lit up the last few weeks of my aunt's life with her bright blue eyes and "wide open" personality.  After an afternoon of coloring with her, playing games with her, reading to her, and just listening to her talk, Robbie Parker's description of his daughter Emilie, reminded me of this bundle of laughter.

Brett, who I can't believe is 9 years old now, continued to battle with his competitive nature while playing a game of slaps with my cousin, Kyra.  Kyra was a champion softball pitcher in high school, and taught Brett, a budding baseball fanatic, a thing or two about reflexes.

Ava, 3, and Emma, 5, color while they wait for their lasagna plates to be finished. 

My mom and Ava made sugar cookies while Ava's parents went Christmas shopping for her.  After her eldest sister passed away, my mom, affectionately "Aunt EJ," took over as grandma to her niece's and nephews' little ones.

We didn't know until after Ava sampled the cookie dough that she's allergic to raw eggs.  The poor thing's eyes and mouth swelled up, but within a couple of hours post Benadryl and some mommy cuddle time, she was back at 200mph.

Ava sits in her dad's lap as they watch TV and momma snoozes in the recliner. Since birth, Ava has been a daddy's girl, but with the arrival of baby brother Kasen looming, family dynamics are sure to even out for parents Kasey and Stacey.