Newtown, CT

I am a parent. I am a teacher. Everything I see and hear is processed from those two perspectives. A combination that is particularly tuned to protecting, helping, guiding, and loving children.

There are events in this world that hurt and burn, slashing into my soul, cutting right to the core. Making me ache, feeling empty and swollen at the same time. There are no adequate words. No reasonable explanations. That is Newtown, CT.

We all process tragedy in our own way. We have unique methods of dealing with grief. Some of us withdraw, absorbing the information, thinking and sorting introspectively. Others work through difficulties outwardly by talking, writing, singing. There are those who take action to make sense of the senseless.

I respect that grief and mourning are dealt with through individual processes.

I also know that some people aren't emotionally equipped to be reasonable while they sort through horrific tragedies like this one in Sandy Hook Elementary School.  There are people out there who are insensitive. Who say hurtful things. Stupid things. There are people who use events like this to tout their own ideologies. They callously cast aside the personal pain and suffering of others so that they can inject their platform and purpose.

There will be a time to discuss politics. We absolutely need to have meaningful, open conversations about why this happened. About how this happened. About what we can do to prevent other events like this. These conversations are critical to the well-being of us all and the future of this nation.

However, we need more decorum. More decency. More sensitivity. We have twenty families who have yet to bury their young children. We have hundreds of children who have only had a weekend to come to grips with the idea that while they hid in a closet, a bathroom, or a corner their classmates were gunned down in their school. In a place where they should be safe. A building they will have to enter over and over again. Where they will feel on edge at the sound of every shut door, every book accidentally dropped, every lunch tray that hits the floor. We have an entire school district that is mourning the loss of five exceptional educators who died for their students. We have countless family members that will spend this holiday season with an empty, aching sorrow as they sit with presents already bought and wrapped for loved ones so senselessly lost. We have a family struggling with losing two of their own. Questioning every decision. Every interaction. Every word. Trying to figure out what they could have done to stop this horrific, terrible, preventable tragedy.

We don't need insensitive memes thrown into our social networks. We don't need rants about guns (being for or against) right now. We don't need trolls making asinine comments about those who lost their lives or the circumstances of the situation. We don't need anyone drumming support for their cause.

What we need is to come together. To support those who are mourning and hurting--in Newtown, in Chardon, in Aurora, in Littleton. The events at Sandy Hook Elementary are certain to have ripped open wounds for those who have been through similar tragedies. We need to offer support. We need to think about how our actions and words affect others.

We need to be Kind. Caring. Thoughtful. Sensitive.
We need to love one another.

Thinking about my Nana

It's been nearly 10 years since my Nana died. Some days it feels longer than that, other days it feels incredibly fresh. I miss her terribly ... I wish I could talk with her, listen to her stories about her life and experiences, share thoughts and ideas, pick her brain for parenting advice, hear her take on what's going on in the world--she was so intelligent and wise.

I would also love to hear her gleeful, completely giddy giggle again ... her unabashedly joyful expression for the success and happiness of others. I can see her as easily as if she were standing in her kitchen, wearing one of her dreadful snap-up smock / apron vests, hands clasped together in front of her chest--as if she were collecting all of her joy. She would begin the release of her happiness with an almost raspy laugh that was always the same (starting with a long, drawn out, exclamatory "Haaaaaaaah!", then followed by several shorter, always genuine and heart-felt bursts of excitement ... "Ha! Ha!! Ha!" ... each one higher in pitch than the last, until the final giggle was more of a squeal). God, I miss her!

Nana defined family for those of us in the Schario clan. Love honestly, be tolerant, think and dream, help each other, be strong and kind. We're a large, motley crew .... smart, sarcastic, busy, hard working, feisty, opinionated and often foul-mouthed. We're also thoughtful, kind, caring, generous and fantastically close with each other. We don't have to talk or see each other often ... but when we do, we fall easily and quickly right back to where we left off. For all of our differences--and there are many--we all share a strong bond with one another ... a bond that grew from the loving heart of Kathleen. She gave us all an amazing gift--the strength, tenderness and capacity to love ourselves and each other. We learned from Nana that family isn't defined by marriage or divorce or your surname ... family is defined by how you love each other.

A few months after I was married, Nana and I were talking on the phone, chatting on about all sorts of things--good books, the problems with and excitement of teaching, spring weather and family stuff. And she said something that struck me as incredibly simple and amazingly profound, so I grabbed a pen and wrote it down. In sorting through the many different relationships of all of us in the family, she said, "all I've ever wanted for my family is that they're strong enough to stand up for themselves and that they're gentle enough to love the person they're with when they need it most." Nana gave us the forum and opportunity to do that--to be strong and gentle, to be outspoken and listen, to reach out to each other and to ask for help.

I feel her around me so often--sometimes I just have uncontrollable urges to sing a little "deedle deedle dee" or maybe "swing swong" ... or when I see my daughter (who we lovingly named Maya Kathleen for Nana) devouring book after book ... or when I burn something that I'm cooking. There are times that I'll be in the middle of something, and I just feel her with me. I sense her warmth, love and support.

I'm so glad to have had such a wonderful woman in my life. I cherish my family so much ... and I am incredibly grateful to her for giving me the amazing gift that is to be a Schario.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Nana!!