week 2

A police officer was killed this week. The bullet maddeningly squeezed through the one little vulnerable spot in his vest. I am usually a practical person but I'm finding that as I get older, I am less so. Watching the tv coverage showing the front of the hospital brought back all the memories of my brother's shooting. I didn't know how serious it was until I saw him and walking past all those policemen lining the halls was unbelievably difficult. They all want to offer some comfort, but at the same time they are also witnessing your pain and that's the part I don't really like. I like my pain private.

When my sister called to tell me the details of the shooting I was at school, getting ready for class. Listening to her, I found myself crying. Crying for that officer and his family, but also crying for my brother and myself. I composed myself and walked back to my room. Of course, on the way, when I paused to wipe my eye one more time, while saying, "Don't worry, I'll be ok", a teacher just happened to walk by and see me. So now I'm the new crybaby. Except that probably not true. He was kind and concerned, and I'm sure not telling everyone that I'm a crybaby. But still.

So I feel stupid for crying in front of him. I feel awful for the family. I feel for one of my students who is also mourning a loss this week. But I think most of all, I have a new fear that I will lose my brother. It is squeezing my chest so hard I can't breathe.