Six Degrees

I just learned that I actually knew one of the VT victims. Not just him, but his family.

It's been awhile, and I knew them professionally, but of course my first reaction was pure emotion. My heart goes out to them all—putting faces and voices to the tragedy makes it all the more painful.

My first response was, I should send them something. Then I turned on the TV and saw the morning shows all featuring tributes to the fallen. Interviews with their friends, family, loved ones, acquaintances, neighbors…

And I shuddered. See, I've been caught up in a high profile case once, years ago. I know what it's like to be forced to mourn in public, to share your grief with total strangers.

With our culture's obsession of right here, right now, instant communication I think we've forgotten that some things aren't just meant to be private, they need to be private.

Yes, one could argue that grief is lightened by sharing. But that is only if the person in mourning chooses to share. Isn't forced to standing blinking in the spotlight, recounting memories of their loved ones.

Worse, having their way of mourning judged alongside others. As if grief knew rules, had an expiration date, or carefully choreographed steps that we all follow leading us to a defined end where we grieve no more.

Sorry, Dr. Kubler-Ross, but it just ain't so. Yes, we all share similar emotions, but how we act on those feelings is an individual process that can't be forced into a checklist: Denial—done, Anger—got it, Bargaining….

We all like to feel part of the story—connected to events that are the center of a media storm. We all like to feel lucky, whew, missed that one. We all like to dissect and play Monday morning quarterback.

Let's just make sure that our desire to see more of this story, to hear all the little details, isn't overshadowing the needs of the people who will be living it for the rest of their lives.

A little prayer, kindness and understanding wouldn't hurt either.