Too upset to write, so I must write

I didn't write yesterday because it seemed wrong to be sharing happy vacation memories in light of what just happened in Boston. It seems wrong to be reflecting on anything having to do with normal life when so many lives have been turned upside down.

I didn't want to write about the bombing because, really, so much has already been said and written that anything I might add would be redundant. It saddens me, as a human and as an American. It angers me as a runner that someone would take this moment from the thousands of people who trained and worked so hard for months and years to be able to run 26.2 miles. And they took that moment of celebration and glory and turned it into terror. As a runner, I so appreciate the people who line the route cheering and offering encouragement. Someone else saw those people as a target, and that makes my blood boil.

And then to hear that one of the people who died was a boy the same age as my son. And to see this picture:

He looks nothing like my child, and yet the similarities make me cry: the smile made up of teeth that seem too big for his mouth, the excitement at being at a hockey game.

I asked AJ if they talked at school about what happened in Boston. Not in his grade. He told me, "Mrs. Harms said, 'I know your dad is a police officer and you know these kinds of things, but not all kids do."

I sure wish the 8-year-old boy who died and all his friends didn't have to know about this either.

Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to write about happier things, but for now, I will again use a national tragedy as a reminder to savor my children, my family and every moment I have with them.