I am awash with emotion, raw inside. I mourn with those who mourn, and I would comfort those who stand in need thereof, but in truth I am helpless to do anything but stand and watch in anguish and horror.
There is no shortage of voices clamoring for attention right now. Mine is not one of them. Nothing I say here can change the news, or soften the commentary, or shut the punditry up so we can take time to cry in silence.
The end of the current storyline is almost here. Book 13, Random Access Memorabilia, wraps on December 31st, and I am running its triumph and tragedy as written, real-world tragedy notwithstanding. My job is to distract, divert, and entertain, and perhaps uplift in the process. I hope that those of you who need that will take the time to give raw nerves a rest. If the story here is too tense for you right now, come back on Christmas Eve when things start winding down.
Let me share one piece of wisdom, passed on to me by Sarah Eden, whose nine-year-old said these words to her today: "When your heart breaks, you choose what to fill the cracks with. Love or hate. But hate won't ever heal. Only love can do that."