The Po Show

No Words

We're all saying the same words.

"Oh my god" "I can't imagine" "I'm speechless" "My heart goes out to the poor family" "What can we do to help?"

And the undercurrent thought, "That could have been me. That could have been my child."

And further under that, "That could be me. That could be my child. Tomorrow." We're all just inches from tragedy, and we move through our lives trying not to think about that, because how could we go on with the daily dance of routine if we thought about it?

A little girl, born in the same month as my boy. A little girl I knew before she was born, even though I never saw her in person. She loved animals, especially dolphins. She took karate lessons. She wanted to be a vet. Her mother, a friend who shared our community of friends and mothers, all drawn together by the random chance of conception and the desire for cyber connection. Her little brother, born less than a year after his Auggie sister; everyone always thought they were twins. Her father, who got the call that his family had been in a car accident, and that his little girl was dead.

For most of us, it's about looking in from the outside in horror and sadness and compassion. We have no idea what the ones on the inside are feeling; we can't know. And we have no words to say how sorry we are.