Cold, rainy, Portland, days from the solstice. This was the time of year when the pagans would hang evergreen boughs above their doors in defiance of the darkness.
Three thousand miles to the east, the sad memorials have begun.
Just like everyone, I want to know why. Why do these things happen? Why did this thing happen?
Andrew Solomon wrote a book, Far From the Tree, about parenting. It is highly-acclaimed, but I have not read it. He spoke to the Newtown massacre in an interview in Salon.
Dear reader, if you, too, are searching for answers, I encourage you to read the entire interview. The story is titled "There's no meaning to be found in Sandy Hook," and you can read it here.
At the end of the interview, Solomon says this: "I think the capacity for this horror is out there. What one eventually has to come terms with is the fact that [the why of it is] unknowable."
My heart broke when I read that. I knew it for truth the instant I did.
There is nothing to learn from this horror. These things are. They exist. I'm sorry.
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