I feel kind of the way I did when my dad died; like I'm part of a stage play and it's not real.  It will be over soon and everything will be the way it was.

It wasn't the reality of February 25, 1983 just like it's not the reality of December 14, 2012.  Babies were murdered as well as their caregivers.  I keep telling myself I'm pushing it back to think of later when there's peace around and I can give it the attention it deserves.  That's not really true though.  If I could, I would erase it from my mind altogether and live my life just as I would if I'd never heard of those innocents.  That is incredibly selfish, I know.  Like all the other mothers and fathers out there, this one hit just too close to home.

The media and social networks show pictures of the victims as they are released by their families.  It's lovely.  They are all beautiful and cherub-like; healthy and happy.  Thanks to my faith, I believe they are even happier now.  They are beyond happy; they are living in a perfect Utopia with a Father who will take care of them and comfort their parents if those parents will allow it.  They are safe and without fear or pain.

But not their parents.  No, their parents have to stay here on Earth and endure imaginable pain and anguish.  They have to open their eyes every morning and try and make sense of the fact, the FACT, that their precious babies won't be at the breakfast table.  Won't be whining about what they have to wear or how far they have to walk to the bus stop.  Won't be giving them a quick kiss before running into school.  I pray they take solace in their faith and know that although their world is falling apart in giant chunks around them, their child is safe and sound.

But will they?  Can they?  Could I?  I pray almost as often as I take a breath that I'll never have to find out.

My prayers have shifted from God embracing the children and welcoming them home to embracing their parents and awarding them some sort of peace and some sort of Heavenly magic that will allow them to heal the gaping holes in their hearts.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop